Druid's Apprentice
by xyvortex
Summary: Harry Potter has a grandfather... older than one would expect. He comes to Harry when he is five and begins to train him for his true destiny. He will begin guiding his three friends to be the next leaders. Ron, Draco and...Harry Potter!
1. Mr Forester

The Druids Apprentice

Ch-1

It was a sweltering day in Surrey and the heat had driven the occupants of Privet Drive indoors. The streets were deserted and quiet. Absent were the normal summertime sounds of dogs barking or children laughing. So miserable was the day that even the air itself seemed to lack the energy for the slightest breeze. The entire neighborhood looked completely deserted by its residents except for the slight figure weeding the flower garden outside number four.

He was small even for a child of five, A Rail thin boy with messy brown hair and clothes many sizes too large for him and at first look he seemed a child much younger. It was only if he met your gaze would you stop to look again. Striking emerald eyes peered out from under his messy bangs and on any normal day would sparkle with the boys intelligence and a wisdom beyond his years.

Had you been looking for it you'd have also seen a mark on the boys forehead quite unlike any normal scar in the shape of a lightning bolt. He'd had it for as long as he could remember and was the last thing that his parents had ever given him. It was a souvenir, so he was told by his aunt and uncle, of the traffic accident that had killed his mother and father when he was a baby. He had been left on their doorstep the day after and had been living with his relatives ever since.

Harry Potter was of two minds about weeding the garden that day. It was frightfully hot and he felt at times that he may pass out if he didn't get out of the heat. At the same time he knew that if he stopped and went inside the punishment that he would receive would be much worse. The boy was constantly reminded of his general uselessness and how his parents had been nothing but freaks. He knew that if he stepped out of line in the least, whether actually or just in his aunt and uncles estimation, he would be locked in his cupboard and not allowed to eat for two and sometimes three days.

Having worked all morning in the parched dirt, Harry wiped his face with a grimy hand. His hair and clothes were soaked with sweat and it dripped onto the badly scratched lenses his glasses making it all the more difficult to see. As another bout of dizziness came and went and the boy was considering daring his relatives anger by getting a glass of water the air about him abruptly changed.

A cool breeze swept through the neighborhood and the oppressive heat vanished. A light mist began to fall from the sky with a promise of something more substantial in the clouds above. Harry sat up to let the cool breeze flow about him when he noticed an old man watching from the fence to the house next door.

The boy felt uncomfortable and tried to make himself smaller against the side of the house. His aunt and uncle had made it quite clear that he was not to have anything to do with the neighbors or do anything that might spread word of his abnormality. The man, however, seemed not to care at all for the wishes of his relatives and seemed determined to get to know him. "Beautiful day for gardening." The old man said with a smile. Harry continued pulling weeds without answering though he would sneak peeks at him through his bangs.

The man did seem nice enough and the boy took a moment to study him. He was easily the oldest man Harry had ever seen. His hair and beard were snow white and fine as spun silk. Tan leathery skin and a lean body were a testament to a lifetime spent outdoors in the weather. The mans face was kind and gentle with a roadmap of wrinkles and laugh-lines etched into his face. Below bushy eyebrows twinkled two green eyes, every bit as bright and intense as Harry's own. The only thing that really seemed out of place on him was a drab pinstripe gray suit that the boy was sure his Uncle Vernon owned several similar, though much larger, versions.

Unperturbed by the boys general lack of response the man continued. "How thoughtless of me," The man tipped his bowler hat. "Merrill Forester... and you'd be Harry?"

The boy blinked. "H... How did you know my name?"

"Well who else would you be?" was the mans response, acting as if there couldn't be any other. "Back to your weeding now, before your aunt and uncle get their knickers in a twist."

The boy quickly turned to check the window above him, finding it empty he looked back to the man... or where he'd been. The old gentleman he'd spent the past few moments talking to had simply vanished.

The week passed and Harry saw his mysterious new neighbor infrequently. Aunt Petunia had spent hours on the telephone with other neighbor women wildly conjecturing what could bring a single old man to live at six Privet drive. She had questioned Harry that first day, asking if he had seen or heard anything from their new neighbor. Not knowing why, the boy had replied he'd not seen anything and was sent to start dinner. Petunia spent the afternoon peering out the kitchen window with a pair of opera glasses trying to get a peak at the mysterious stranger.

The few times Harry had seen the man he had been working diligently on the garden at the back of his house. The old man seemed to have a way with plants and in the matter of a few days the barren little plot had become green and beautiful. He had made a beautiful lattice-work archway entwined with flowering vines. The way he had with plants seemed almost magical. The boy would stand at the fence in the back, when time and his chores permitted and just bask the aroma coming from the other yard.

About a week into his stay, Petunia's curiosity was satisfied by a knock at the door. "BOY!" yelled Vernon, "Answer the door, make yourself useful for once!" Quickly putting away the bucket and brush he had been scrubbing the kitchen floor with, Harry went to the entryway and opened the door.

Bowler hat in one hand and a bouquet of flowers in the other, the man spared a quick wink at Harry before announcing himself in a fairly loud voice. "Good afternoon my boy is your mother or father at home?"

The boy gaped at him and had yet to form an answer when Petunia materialized out of the kitchen and roughly pulled Harry behind her. "Good afternoon... Mr. Forester isn't it?"

"Yes, my dear, Merrill forester at your service." with a flourish and a small bow the man presented her with the flowers as if she had been royalty. Pleased and more than slightly flustered the woman invited the man into their home. "Please do come in and meet my husband and son..." She grabbed Harry by the scruff of the neck and propelled him towards the kitchen. "Tea and biscuits boy," she whispered, "quickly now."

Scurrying into the kitchen the boy put on a pot of tea and arranged the biscuits on a platter along with four cups. When everything was ready the boy carried the heavy tray into the sitting room just as Mr. Forester was commenting on Petunias garden.

"It's quite wonderful. I see that your begonias are doing very well despite the heat." Taking note of the boys arrival, the gentleman continued, "And there is the little gardener I saw my first day. You've introduced me to this fine strapping lad..." Merrill waved a hand at Dudley, "as your son so this one is..."

Vernon, looking a bit ill put in, "The boy is Petunia's sisters son, he was sent to us four years ago after his parents were killed in a car crash." The old mans eyebrows rose. "A crash you say... Must be quite a burden on all of you having to look after a child not your own."

Taking the mans words as recognition of their plight, Mr. Dursley continued, "The boy is lazy and good for nothing. He is a financial drain on my family. His parents were unemployed and penniless when they died and we've been footing the bill for them ever since."

Mr. Foresters eyes were unreadable, "I'd bet the boy doesn't understand all the sacrifices you've made for him."

"Totally ungrateful he is," replied Mr. Dursley," and the day he turns of age and we can be rid of him wont come too soon."

The old man seemed ready to say something further as Vernon finished but he stopped, took a breath and smiled. "You know, what the boy needs is discipline, honest hard work. I'm getting on in years and could use some help with my gardening. Perhaps you could send him over mornings work for me." Mr. Dursley balked at first, not wanting the boy out of his or his wife's sight. "Of course I'd be willing to pay you for the boys help, perhaps it could go a small way towards paying his keep." While pig-headed and stubborn, Vernon Dursley was no fool. The two men quickly settled down and haggled a price for the boys services.

Harry stood in shock at the change in the man that had come through the door. He had seemed so nice man at first, and the boys instincts still told him to trust the man. In just the few short minutes that he'd been making tea the man had turned into another Vernon. Going back to his cupboard the boy waited miserably for the night to be over.

Morning came with the usual list of chores from the Dursleys. "And you'll get everything doneas well as helping Mr. Forester in his garden or there'll be no supper for you tonight." His uncles words followed Harry out of the house and next door where he rang the bell. He pushed the button twice more before the door opened and Harry stood with mouth agape.

Mr. Forester stood before him in a nightshirt that went well past his knees, it was sky blue and covered with smiling moons and stars. On the mans head was a long night cap, the end laying over one shoulder and a fuzzy white tassel at the end. Covering his feet were a pair of fuzzy pink bunny slippers. "Harry! Good morning, come in! I'm just having a spot of breakfast, won't you join me?" The boy gaped in astonishment as he was pulled into the house.

Harry felt like he was in another world. All the houses on Privet drive were nearly identical on the outside, it just seemed natural that they be quite alike on the inside as well. Mr. Foresters house, however was nowhere anything like his aunt Petunias.

His entire front room was nearly buried in books of all shapes and sizes. They lined the walls, covered every flat space in the room and he could have sworn he'd just seen one scurry under the couch. Plants filled the corners of the room giving it a homey, earthy scent, quite unlike the disinfectant smell at home. The kitchen, was even more outlandish. An owl perched on a bar over the sink and a rabbit was cleaning itself on the counter. Herbs hung from the ceiling, giving the room an 'earthy' smell and on the kitchen table was a place setting for two people, each plate loaded with eggs, bacon, sausage and some oddly shaped things that he found out later were American waffles.

Taking two tea cups from a small cupboard the old man prepared some for them both and sweetened them with honey. Guiding the raven haired boy to a chair he took the other and sat. "Take a seat Harry, eat up."

The boy looked at him with tears forming in the corners of his eyes... "But sir, I can't..."

Merrill let out a great sigh and muttered. "Damn them all... wizards and muggles alike..." Turning his chair to face the boy, he took another deep breath and said, "Harry, I know your relatives don't allow you breakfast and would be quite upset if you had it here, yes?" the boy nodded. "But your uncle also sent you over here and told you do as I said?" Again the boy agreed. "Well then, it's simple enough. I'm telling you to eat all your breakfast and not breathe a word of it to the Dursleys." The scrawny boy thought about it for a few seconds then a slow smile crept across his face and he carefully started into his meal.

Harry ate like someone starved, which in fact he was. On the best of mornings he would be lucky to see a dry piece of toast or perhaps scraps off his uncles plate before he washed it but only if he didn't get caught by his aunt Petunia. The boy started out to only have a bit as he wasn't used to eating large meals. The more he ate, however, the more he wanted and he seemed to never get full. Finally and for the first time he could remember Harry stopped eating feeling satisfied.

When all the dishes were empty and placed in the sink, Harry looked to the man and asked, "Yesterday you were so different with my family and how did you know about breakfast?"

The man gazed back at him with a twinkle in his emerald eyes. "Observant, I'm glad they haven't beaten it out of you yet... My boy I've been watching you for some time. I know the type of people the Dursleys are and what it would take to get you away from them. As to the why of it... come out and see my garden."

They walked to his back door and the man waved for Harry to take the lead. Looking oddly at the man, the little boy opened the door and stood thunderstruck yet again. "Of course there will be some explanations in order..." the man said with a grin as they both looked out on his 'garden' which was interspersed forest and meadows as far as the eye could see.


	2. Explanations

The Druids Apprentice

Ch 2, Explanations

The boy stood stunned, gaping into the distance as the old man stepped out of the doorway and into the clearing. "Come Harry and walk with me. I'll explain as best I can."

Following the man to the banks of a nearby stream the little boy asked, "It's... but... how?"

Merrill grinned at the boys confusion, "I'm a wizard Harry, as are you."

The man sat himself down on the bank and watched his young companion digest this news. The raven-haired boy sat beside him looking sightlessly at the water for several minutes before finally turned to face him. "You said you're a wizard and I am too... Mr. Forester, how can I be? I'm just..." The boys face scrunched up as if he'd bitten into something truly sour. "Uncle Vernon says that magic isn't real and that thinking about it is freakish and abnormal."

"Oh he did, did he?" Merrill replied, his face becoming serious and almost threatening. "You're going to find that your uncle is mistaken about a great many things." The old man paused for a moment, shook his head with a smile and laughed. "Muggle television... Wonderful thing but I seem to pick up the silliest phrases."

Merrill pulled out a long pipe, stuffed it with tobacco from a pouch at his waist and snapped his fingers. A small tongue of flame appeared on the tip of his thumb. Using it he lit his pipe and resumed his explanation to a rapt audience of one.. "Magic is real and you are a wizard, as good, if not better than your parents. Yes, my boy." The man assured the boy before he could ask, "They both were wizards and trained at one of the finest modern schools of wizardry still standing, Hogwarts."

"Wizards have lived alongside non-magical folk, we call them muggles, since the earliest times. People being what they are, the muggles feared and disliked wizard kind because of their power and at one point nearly wiped them out. Over the centuries wizards and witches built their own communities hidden from the outside world and go to great lengths to remain unnoticed. Your father was from a prestigious pure-blood family and your mother was born of muggle parents but had ancestors neither she or her family knew about that were exceedingly powerful."

"They both went to Hogwarts and eventually fell in love." the old man continued, "They married and had you. The night they died your mother sacrificed herself trying to save you and succeeded far beyond that even she could hope. Lilly awakened magics that had slept within her family line for nearly a thousand years. It saved you from a curse that should have killed you and called to me that I would come to protect and teach you." Studying the lost expression on his young wards face the man continued, "Harry, I'm your great, great, great... well anyway I am your many-times removed grandfather, and if you like you may stay with me until you turn eleven and go to Hogwarts as parents did."

The little boy shook his head, "but Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon... they won't..."

"They won't even know you've gone." Holding out his hand, Merrill whistled a call and down swooped a sparrow. They seemed to carry on quite the conversation for several moments until he finally nodded and sat the bird down on a nearby stump. Placing one hand upon Harry's head and the other over the bird. he chanted softly as the sparrow grew and changed until sitting in its place was... Harry.

"M... Merrill?" Said the boy, shrinking away from the transformed bird.

Hearing the frightened tone from the boy he spoke soothingly. "Not to worry Harry, our young sparrow here has volunteered to stand in for you with your relatives until you are old enough to go to school. He will talk and act exactly as you would." The boy stepped closer to examine his mirror image but nearly fell as a dizzy spell came over him. "Careful, my boy, you two are connected. Getting too close to him may cause some lightheadedness, like trying to walk down the street while seeing double. Your connection, however, will allow you to be aware of what is happening to your twin at all times."

The changeling waved timidly at Harry and said, "Hi."

"Um... Hi," returned the boy, "but... what do I call you?" 

"Call him James, lad." said the druid. "it would be less confusing." Harry nodded, not trusting himself to speak at that moment. He turned as Merrill knelt in front of him. "What happens now is entirely up to you my boy. James can go and play your part at the Dursleys while you stay and learn or I can return your double to his true form and I will simply be your neighbor. I won't force someone to become anything you don't want or aren't ready to be. Not after Arthur. I will be your grandfather and protector no-matter your choice. There are just too many people in this world that will be trying to use you for their own ends."

Harry looked doubtful. "Aren't you doing the same thing?"

Merrill laughed heartily. "As a matter of fact I am my lad. The difference is that with you I will be totally honest and forthcoming about it. And if you decide to live a normal life until you're eleven then I will support you that way as well."

The old man stood him back up and they started walking. "I have lived more than two thousand years, Harry. In that time nations have risen and been swept away by the sands of time. Now my mortal life is nearing its end and I need someone to take my place, to learn what I have to teach and use it to keep the balance." The man gazed into Harry's eyes, "Will you let me train you?

Harry looked into the older mans eyes for a time, "What are you going to teach me to be?"

"What I already am," he replied, "a druid." The old man directed the two boys to follow him along the path as he continued. "Druids are protectors of the land, they work to find and maintain balance in all things. Everything in nature has a balance Harry." Merrill pointed up into the sky as the clouds parted. "Were the sun to shine all the time, never a night or a cloud in the sky the land would become parched and die." Just as quickly the sky then clouded over and a gentle rain started. "So it is with the rain, were it to fall continuously the land would be covered in water and drowned."

They crested a hill and stood overlooking a small valley with a village nestled inside. The scene was idyllic. Children played in the streets as their parents either worked about their homes or at their jobs. "We are in Avalon. It

is a magical land, separate from the rest of the world. All those who live here understand their place in the world and work to keep the balance. Mankind on a whole, however, has no knowledge or care for keeping equilibrium. Muggles believe only in their science and Wizards rely on their magic even for the simplest of tasks. Now the great powers, Dumbledore for the light and Voldemort for the dark, have become polar opposites, each trying to shape mankind to fit their philosophy. At these times the people need a leader strong and wise enough to hold the balance. That, Harry, is where you will come in."

Harry audibly gulped. "You want me to become their leader?"

The old man shook his head, "Harry I am going to ask you to become something far more difficult. You will become the teacher, friend and moral compass of the next great leader of the wizarding world."

The boy said the first intelligent thing that he could think of. "Huh?"

"My boy," The old druid explained, "Great leaders are not born, they are made. Over the past thousand years I have guided many great men and women with varying success to keep natures balance. Of late my efforts have been greatly in vain."

"They need a strong leader who will guide them from the darkness but have the strength and ruthlessness to hold his power and give the dark forces a second thought about attempting to usurp it. Long ago I tried to create a

champion of good to defeat the dark forces but he was too pure. Through treachery and deceit they destroyed him and his shining kingdom. When you enter Hogwarts as a student one of your classmates will become your own unwitting pupil. We will have six years normal time in which to lay the groundwork of your training. Fortunately, here on Avalon, you will have twelve."

Harry stopped him there, "But Merrill, you said that I would go to Hogwarts when I was eleven. I'll be seventeen if I train for twelve years."

"Ah but you will be eleven my boy." The old man said with a wink, "Time passes differently here. For every year that passes in the normal world, two will pass here. Since you are rooted in the normal world, however, you will age as if you were there." The ancient wizard in bunny slippers stood before the boy, "Your answer Harry, back to your relatives or will you let me train you?"


	3. Training and a visit with the Dursleys

The Druids Apprentice

Ch 3 Training and a visit with the Dursleys.

Nine year old Harry Potter moved through the forest as a silent shadow. Four years had past in the muggle world but for the green eyed boy it had been more than eight. Harry had spent much of his training traveling throughout Avalon and the muggle world learning everything from woodcraft to pick-pocketing. Grandfathers latest test was of his forestry skills.

Without magic he was to track his mentor without being seen and at the same time trying to avoid a griffin that had been recruited to hunt him. They were into the third day of chase and the boy was beginning to feel the strain of the task. Earlier in the day he had thrown the half lion, half giant eagle by traversing a patch of screeches. The giant mushroom-like plants had put up a horrible din when the beast had blundered into them and had forced it to take to the sky. Taking advantage of the creatures distress, the boy was quick to hide his tail and possibly lose himself from the griffin for good. In the search for his grandfather, unfortunately, he was having no better luck with his quarry than the great beast had with him.

The old druid had evaded him the day before using stony ground to cover his passage. The boy was a good tracker but his grandfather had been traversing this forest before there was even a Britain and it was making Harry feel quite inadequate. He was skirting another clearing and searching for any sign of the old man's passage when he heard the scream from above.

Without looking the boy dove into deeper brush, avoiding the claws of an angry griffin as it swooped past. He ran for all he was worth, not sparing a glance behind him as he searched for denser brush to slow the huge creatures

progress. The boy was beginning to feel safe when a sudden blow from behind knocked him from his feet.

Using the force of the strike he rolled several feet, pulling a small packet wrapped in leaves from a pouch at his belt. The beast towered above him and snarled savagely. Seven feet tall, its head, wings and forelegs were that of

a giant eagle and Its hindquarters and tail were of a huge lion. Even sitting still such a beast would bring a pause and a pang of fear to even the heartiest warrior but one that was hunting and enraged... was quite overwhelming. The sound issuing from its throat was a cross between a shriek and a growl.

The boy stood as if frozen, waiting for the right moment to spring his little surprise. As the beast rose up on its hindquarters and took a breath in preparation to attack the boy crushed the packet in his hand and threw it at the

beasts head. The yellowish cloud billowed around it and was sucked into its lungs and the effect was instantaneous.

Harry dove past the stricken griffin as it choked and moaned in pain. He wove through the forest putting as much distance between himself and the creature as possible. He ran, unheeding of his direction or location until he

felt that he had lost the beast for good. Leaning against a tree he took huge gulps of air, trying to get his breath back. He had almost recovered himself when he suddenly ducked and rolled on hearing a quiet voice just beside him call his name.

"Gods!... Grandfather... You'll give me a bleedin heart attack doing things like that!"

The ancient druid leaned against the tree studying his many-times removed grandson. The four years had been kind to the boy. Already he was nearly a head taller than James and easily ten kilos heavier. Physically both boys were still nine, but Harry had flourished under his grandfathers loving tutelage and regular diet. He was tanned and muscular, having spent nearly every waking moment running, playing and fighting since he had been rescued by the ancient druid. The old man had changed little to the boys eyes since they'd met except for his wardrobe. No longer in a dressing gown and bunny slippers, the old druid wore clothing very similar to Harry's. Home spun tunic and breeches with soft leather boots and a hooded cloak to keep the weather off.

The old man lit his pipe and gazed at his young charge. "It's been three days Harry, how do you feel you've done?" The boy grimaced. He hated when his grandfather did this. It was one thing to try and learn the skills the old man taught but to then have to grade himself in front of the man... he was always afraid that he would be easy on himself and lose stature in the mans eyes.

"O.K. I guess, I was able to keep up with you for the most part until yesterday but when you got to the rocky ground I lost you all-together... where did you go?"

The old man smiled, "It's a common thing to miss lad, most do it. You were looking at the ground for signs of my passing, yes?"

The boy nodded, then gave his mentor a hard stare. "Up? You cant fly, you said no magic this time."

"I didn't actually say _I _couldn't use magic," he replied, "Only that you weren't supposed to. Regardless I never cast a spell... I simply came to the tree line and climbed. I only had to go a mile or so limb to limb but it was enough to throw you off the scent." He ruffled the boys hair. "don't fret on it, just remember that an intelligent man considers all the possibilities... Now what of your evasion of our feathery friend?"

The boy shrugged, "I think Skye won't be happy to see me for a while."

The man chuckled. "Yes I saw your last little stunt... My guess is crushed mustard seed?"

Harry grinned back, "Yea and some pepper seed too."

The man nodded, "You'd best not turn your back to her for a bit, she is a bit peevish. I must say though young man that you're coming along splendidly. Lets talk and head back to the house, James will surely be waiting for us."

Together the two began the long march back to the clearing where they made their home. "Harry, you remember we spoke of your mother and her sacrifice." The boy nodded, obviously uncomfortable with the subject. "I want to

tell you all that happened that night, Much of the intrigue in the wizarding world revolves around it and you, my boy." Harry remained silent. He knew his grandfather and all would be revealed if he just waited for the explanation.

The old man took a deep breath and began his tale. "Several years ago a ruthless wizard came to power. His cause, the reason he gave for his actions was pureblood supremacy. He stated that he believed that only wizards who came from established magical families, unsullied by muggle blood were worthy to be called such. This from a man who's own father was a muggle himself." Merrill shook his head, marveling at the stupidity of it all. "He gathered many followers and killed any that stood in his path to dominance."

"This would be Voldemort then," Harry asked, "The dark wizard you told me about before."

The old man nodded, his face blank as stone. "He terrorized the wizarding and muggle worlds alike. The ministry of magic was in a shambles many of their number. Some even of their police men, aurors, had fallen in with the madman. The only organized opposition came from a group of light wizards that had dubbed themselves 'The Order of the Phoenix.' Lead by their greatest wizard."

"Dumbledore?" The boy guessed.

"Correct again my boy. Your parents were also a part of the order. They had faced him three times and come away unharmed. There was a prophesy, however, that predicted that their son would be his downfall. Through the betrayal by one of their close friends, Voldemort found their home and killed them both. He tried the same with you but the ancient magics your mother had awakened protected you, destroyed his physical form and banished him for a time."

Harry stopped. "He's not dead then?"

The old man shook his head. "No. He is weakened and formless but still alive. Dumbledore took you to your aunt and uncles house thinking that the magics tied to Lilly's sacrifice would be transferred through her blood ties to her sister... A load of pish-posh is you ask me. The prophesy said that only you could kill Voldemort or be killed yourself. When you begin school at Hogwarts he plans to begin shaping you into a proper weapon for the coming war."

The old druid stopped and knelt in front of the boy, taking both shoulders he said, "I've told you more today than anyone really should have to hear in one sitting and I'm sorry. These men are dangerous and to both you are little more than a tool. I need you to be prepared for their machinations... Are you alright? What are you feeling Harry?"

The boy looked back with a bit of a far away look in his eyes. "Sad I guess. I mean I don't really even remember My parents. I want Voldemort to pay for what he's done though." The boy looked up at his granfather with an intense, questioning stare. "We will make him pay won't we?"

A dangerous glint came to the old mans eyes. "Oh yes, my boy, there will be justice, this is swear on our blood."

At that moment they rounded a bend and came upon their home. Sitting in front of it was a little boy, not looking more than six or seven years old with messy black hair, green eyes and several fresh bruises on his face.

"James!" Harry yelled as he left his grandfather and ran to his stand-in for the muggle world. "It's great to see... What happened to you?"

The smaller boy flinched at the question. "I... It's nothing really..."

Harry broke in again angrily, "My arse it's not... It was Dudley! Him and his friends!" The boy turned to his grandfather. "We have to do something! I won't let James be treated like this when I can do something about it!

The old man went to James, whispered something and passed an arm over his form, the bruises and scratches disappeared as if they never were. "What would you suggest Harry? You can't just go and tell his parents, they'll take his side... and if you were to hurt Dudley they may send James to an orphanage..."

At this James brightened, "you think?"

The old man shook his head, "Sorry James but Dumbledore won't allow you to leave, we'll have to think of something else."

Harry's eyes suddenly widened. "Grandfather, you can make me look like James right?"

"Of course my boy, it's a simple illusion... why?"

Several minutes later a small boy exited from number six Privet drive and walked determinedly towards the park. Seeing Dudley and his gang he changed his step so that he seemed timid, almost afraid. Like a pack of dogs smelling blood the boys turned, saw Harry entering the park and moved as one to intercept him. Smiling to himself the little boy ran into some shrubbery that would hide them all from view.

Dudley was feeling Really good today. He'd gotten two expensive presents from his parents that morning 'just because he was such a wonderful Duddikins.' he'd already beaten up his younger cousin once and now the little wanker was back yet again for seconds. He lead his cronies into the bushes expecting to find the boy cowering but instead Harry was propped against a tree with a smile on his face.

"Hello Dudds..." the boy said with an infuriating smile. "Come for seconds? I don't think so, I'm tired of you picking on me so I think I'll teach you a lesson."

Dudley couldn't help himself, he broke into a fit of laughter. "You teach me?... what exactly?"

"Well I know that Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon would punish me severely if anything happened to 'little Duddipoo'" The boy replied, "So I guess I'm going to show your friends what's going to happen to them whenever you or any of them mess with me."

Dudley wasn't the brightest light in the string but he knew a threat when he heard one. "What do you..." Harry didn't let the boy finish. Running forward suddenly he kicked Piers Poltkiss, Dudley's best friend, squarely in the bag. Pushing him off he elbowed another in the stomach and kicked a third behind the leg, knocking him to his knees. Spinning around on his leg he brought roundhouse kick to the fallen boys face. Moving quickly to the one he'd elbowed he put a knee into the boys head, dropping him for the count as well. Piers, seeing the pounding his friends were getting, chose the better part of valor and curled into a little ball to wait out the beating. Dudley, having just spun about and finally realized that Harry had moved from in front of him, watched in astonishment as his last remaining friend not completely flattened get a sock to the jaw that spun him almost all the way back around and fall to the ground unconscious.

Dudley was unsure what to do. Harry was a little wimp, a freak; his father had said as much. Now four of his closest friends were on the ground and bleeding because of his cousin.

Harry stood surrounded by his fallen tormentors as he spoke to Dudley. "Listen up Dudders and the rest of you. Touch me, any of you, ever again and It'll come down on you ten times worse.. Except for you Dudley... You wont get touched... by me. I wonder, though, how many beatings your friends will take before they turn on you." Not wasting another breath on the sorry bunch the boy left the park and ran back to his grandfathers house.

Several days went by and early one morning he was woken by the old druid. "Get up Harry, we need to go to muggle London." The boy quickly dressed, saving his questions for after they left the house. The old man waved his hand and Harry's appearance changed dramatically. His hair that had been past his shoulders was now a brown shaggy mane that reached his neck, his eyes were blue and his ever present scar had been re-located to his backside. The old man had laughed and said no-one would think to look for it there even if that's where the boys brains seemed to reside half the time. They walked several blocks till they were safely away from Privet drive and the old man raised a hand. Instantly the knight bus appeared and stopped. Paying the man they both sat on a four-poster and watched the scenery go by.

"We're going to see your pupil, Harry." The mans statement had instantly captured the boys attention. "I've a friend that tells me he's lost in Muggle London. The boy normally wears a ring that tells his parents where he is but he left it at home this morning and has gotten separated from his parents."

The bus suddenly swerved violently to avoid some oncoming traffic and an old wizard several beds away Muttered "Oh Merlin." Harry gave his grandfather a hard look, "What?" The boy continued to stare, "It's just an expression."

They arrived at their destination shortly after and the old man gave his grandson some last minute instructions. "Your name is Damon Forester, you're my Grandson visiting from Ottery St. Catchpole. Remember that we're just here so you can get a good look at him and get him back to his parents. Nothing else."

"Grandfather," the boy returned, "Why don't we just take him to Avalon and teach him like you have me?"

"Were it that simple," the old man said, "He's likely been corrupted by his parents. He couldn't pass the gates into the magical realm. One day, if you teach him well he'll be accepted but for now he you must do it in the muggle world... there!" They had come into a fountain square. Everywhere children were running and playing. One, however was sitting on a bench, desperately trying not to cry.

Harry looked up to his grandfather who simply nodded. Separating himself from his mentor, he walked over to the bench. "Hi, are you lost?"

The other boy transformed before him. Putting on a brave mask he sneered, "Do I look lost to you?"

"Yup." Said Harry.

The new boy seemed to deflate a little bit but said with false confidence, "Father will be along directly I'm sure..."

At that moment the old druid joined them and spoke up. "You didn't wander away from the Leaky Cauldron by chance, did you?"

The boy's eyes grew round, he quickly looked about to make sure no one was listening and whispered, "You're wizards?"

Smiling warmly the man nodded, "lets get you back there before your parents worry too much."

Several minutes later they were inside the inn talking to Tom, the barkeep when an imposing, aristocratic man smoothly entered the pub. His calm and collected air was ruined by a pale, strained and almost desperate look on his face. Seeing his son in the group he took a long slow breath, calmed himself and glided over to take the boys shoulder.

"There you are." He studied the two of them and nodded, "Lucius Malfoy at your service. I trust you're the gentleman that escorted young Draco back here?"

The old druid shook his hand. "Merrill Forester, Found him a few blocks over, smart lad, kept his head on his shoulders. Most children today would be in a panic if they'd gotten separated in the middle of muggle London."

Lucius nodded, "The boy is a Malfoy after all... Forester... there was a pureblood family by the name... they vanished years ago... are you related?"

Harry's grandfather used the same ingratiating tones he'd used with the Dursleys, "Indeed we are. The family pulled up stake several years back and we've moved about quite a bit but we've returned recently... my grandson will be starting Hogwarts in two years, I'm sure the boys will get a chance to know each other better then..."

The blond wizard cracked a partial smile and said, "Perhaps sooner... Have you re- opened the manor yet?"

"Not yet," the old man replied with a shake of the head. "The boys parents died a few years ago and the two of us are all that's left. I haven't decided if it would be worth the effort."

"It would, trust me. Blood had gotten a bit thin here of late, it would be refreshing to have someone of your breeding around... Come Draco we must be off." The two left the pub as quickly as the elder Malfoy had arrived.

Harry turned to his Grandfather. "I don't like him."

The old druid took the boys shoulder and guided him towards the door. "Neither do I, lets go home.


	4. Changes and a second home

The Druids Apprentice

Ch. 4 Changes

The days following their encounter with Draco and his father Merrill brooded. He still trained Harry daily and just as hard, but he seemed distant, as if his mind was a thousand miles away. The boy bore it for as long as he

could stand then one morning as they sat down for breakfast the boy leveled a piercing stare at his grandfather. "are you going to tell me What's going on?"

The old man stared at the boy as if unaware until that moment that he had company. "I'm sorry my boy," he said with a sigh. Straightening in his chair he continued, "My attention has been elsewhere for the past few days. Since our last little trip to London I've been thinking about young Draco." Leveling a steady gaze at the boy he asked, "Tell me Harry, what is your impression of the Malfoys?" The boy thought for a moment. "He seems nice enough, a little pompous but with a father like that... but Mr. Malfoy... I don't trust him, excepting for the concern he does seem to have for his son he seems a total git."

The druid nodded, "I agree. I'd assume the boy would much more like his father by now but... there is more innocence in his eyes than I had any right to expect. The two of you are to start school at Hogwarts in two years. I fear that by then his fathers influence may have destroyed any virtue left in the boy. We need to get to him while he is still the most malleable and at least temper his fathers influence." Harry nodded in agreement. "You're right grandfather, but what can we do? There's no reason for me to be anywhere near him until the start of school and from all you've said his father would love to get his hands on me."

"No, my boy," said the old man with a twinkle in his eye. "It's Harry Potter that Lucius wants so much to get his hands on and said Mr. Potter would have no business messing about in the wizarding world when he is supposed to be in hiding, it would draw far too much attention." The mans eyes fairly blazed with mischief, "But Damon Forester... his family's return to society would put both Draco and himself together on a quite regular basis, especially if Lucius is trying to recruit the Forester family patriarch into joining his cause."

Harry grinned at his grandfather and gave him a searching look. "What are you planning?" "Simplicity in itself my boy." he replied, "Two things drive Lucius Malfoy, his lust for power and his pure-blood pride. I think with a

little time I can chip away at his loyalty to Voldemort and insert a few doubts in his actions while you begin working on Draco. It may make your job just that much easier."

The boy frowned "Alright then, say we do this... What happens to me? I mean Harry Potter can't just disappear." "But he won't my boy," the man said as the front door slammed heralding James' arrival. Harry Potter has and will continue to live at number 4 Privet drive until he goes to Hogwarts, and when he attends Damon Forester will be one of his schoolmates."

"James?" The boy said incredulously, "you can't be serious... grandfather, he was transfigured from a bird, he's not me. Won't somebody like Dumbledore notice? Anyway he doesn't have any magic of his own." The druid

nodded to his pupil, "True points all, but I've been working on it for a few days now. James! Perfect timing my boy come in." Harry and his grandfather spent the next half hour bringing his brother up to speed, the boy was skeptical.

"Merrill, Harry's right you know. I mean I have all his memories and his form but I can't do this indefinitely.. I'll be found out."

"Not to worry lads," Merrill assured them, "I have a spell that will put everything right.... Go out side for a bit and I'll call you when I'm ready." The two boys did as the old man asked and went out the back door into Avalon.

"Are you sure you want to do this Harry?" The smaller boy asked, "I mean if I take your place what happens to you?" Shrugging, he answered, "I honestly don't know. I guess I'll be Damon Forester until it's all over, what about you?" James shrugged as well, "I'm not too thrilled that I'll be living with the Dursleys for that long but things have gotten better since you talked to Dudley the other day. You know he's even defending me to his parents? He even gave me his second bedroom." The boys sat talking for the better part of an hour when Merrill came out and called them back.

Inside was a large cauldron simmering over a very low fire. "Don't worry boys the water's not that hot, like a good, warm bath. I need you both to strip down and get in... Before you do, Harry I want you to understand that this may be quite painful, if you aren't sure, let me know now." The boy didn't bother to answer, he simply began removing his clothes. When both boys were in the cauldron the druid asked, "Are you both ready? Then we'll begin."

The cauldron was rather large and the water warm and soothing. Harry rested the back of his head against the edge and his knees barely touched his adopted brothers. He watched through slitted eyes as his brothers face became

more and more relaxed, too relaxed in fact. James face began to sag like a wax figure over a fire. Harry wanted to jump up, to say something but he found he couldn't move. After several minutes where his brother had disappeared

completely into the liquid a small sparrow suddenly burst from the surface and struggled to the lip, it shook out its feathers and flew to land on Merrill's shoulder. The boy was struggling to voice a question to his grandfather when a

dull aching pain started in his stomach.

Slight at first, the discomfort quickly grew into full-blown cramps. His stomach began to swell and he felt as it his skin would burst. "Gg....Grandfather..." The mans words came from close beside him as the man whispered in his ear. "Try to relax Harry, James' essence is in the pot, your brother in spirit will soon be your brother in the flesh. The boys stomach continued to swell, If he'd been able to he would have screamed with the agony

coursing through him. After an eternity of torment there was a popping sensation and his stomach deflated as the water turned red.

Several more minutes passed as the pain eased into a dull ache. The water in the cauldron rippled and a small head suddenly popped up across from him. The boy looked as he had at the age of two, as Harry watched the toddler

began to grow and mature until a scrawny and undernourished nine year old James Harold Potter opened his eyes. The boy was identical to the one that had melted into the pot moments before, save that he was missing the curse scar. "Harry?" "Hi James" Both boys spoke so softly they could barely be heard. Harry

felt so weak, like he'd run night and day for a month. He struggled to get up but was unable. The boy was growling in frustration when he felt two strong hands slip under his arms.

Merrill lifted each from the Cauldron, wrapped them in comfortable towels and sat them on a comfy sofa. They sat limply as the old man dried them and Harry began to feel his strength returning. "the Hard part is over lads,"

the old man said encouragingly, "just a few details left." he propped James against an arm of the sofa and turned Harry to face him. "Now if you're up to it, James put your left palm over Harry's scar... just so.. Now Harry, do the

same where James scar should be" Both boys did as they were asked and the old man explained.

"As you well know I created James four years ago when I started your training, Harry. This very noble and brave sparrow," the bird on Merrill's shoulder chirped, "allowed himself to be transformed into your brother. For the

relatively short time that I thought he would do this and with no real magical scrutiny he was perfect. With our new plans I felt we needed something more... lasting. To accomplish this I have allowed you to experience something quite unique for a male... you are likely the only nine year old boy ever to give birth to his own brother... unless you believe those silly supermarket tabloids."

"You both are now indeed brothers," the man continued, not giving either boy a chance to respond, "Twins in fact. Two separate bodies joined by a single soul." They both looked at him with shock but he chuckled. "It's quite alright boys, Many twins share a soul, it gives them the unique ability to know what the other is thinking or feeling. Now, that you share body and soul, so must you share the effects of Voldemort's curse."

He placed a hand on each boys head and began a long intricate spell in Celtic. Harry's scar began to itch madly while James grimaced in pain. There was a brief flash of green light that threw knocked him away from his brother, when he looked again James now bore the same scar that had marked him since that Halloween eight years ago.

The old druid had James dress while he finished with Harry. He touched a finger to the boys scar and traced a line down his cheek, neck, across his chest and stopped on the boys left hip. The itch had returned to his scar with a

vengeance, it felt like it had grown hundreds of spidery legs and was crawling down his body, following the line the man had drawn. When it was finally done, the boy bore a lightning bolt on his hip, just below his belt line. "Remember this well boy, Hogwarts is a boarding school, you'll live with the same people for seven years so sooner or later someone is going to see it. Tell them that it's from the car accident that took your parents. Lets say it happened when you were four... now for the rest." Harry's grandfather cast spells to permanently

change the boys hair and eye color. Glasses were not an issue as the boy hadn't worn them since the old mage had fixed his sight when he was five. "Alright then, a little decency please... Get dressed Harry, before you catch your

death."

As they put their clothes back on he spoke to them both. "James, when you're in Avalon or in my home, you will be James and you'll remember everything. Outside, at the Dursleys or anywhere else you will truly believe you're Harry Potter and only have the memories that he should." Turning to face Harry he said, "As for you, young man, you'll have to get used to answering to the name Damon. Other than in Avalon, you'll answer to nothing else...

understood Harry?" The boy stared into the mans eyes, biting his lips to keep them closed, a smile plastered on his face. "Good boy," laughed the man. "Run along back to the Dursleys, Harry, we'll see you tomorrow." James blinked a couple times and smiled, "Right!" he ran up, gave his twin a hug, "See you tomorrow Damon" Laughter in his eyes Harry answered, "You too Harry." the smaller boy gave him a quick squeeze and was gone.

The old man watched the boy go and turned his attention back to his grandson. "I have something for you Damon." The druid pulled out a small walking stick, "This is a gift from Silvanus." The boy gaped, "But... he doesn't even like me..." "Silvanus is a forest spirit, Harry," explained Merrill. "He has lived longer than mankind.. He doesn't make friends quickly but he does like you my boy." he held the staff out, "Take it."

Harry held the walking stick reverently. It was nearly tall as he was, made of ash. It had never felt the touch of machine or tool yet the surface was covered with intricate runes and woodland scenes. The finish was smooth and

silky and the whole thing seemed to vibrate in his hands. The boy looked up in wonder to his mentor. "It's alive!" The old man grinned, "Yes it is and it will grow with you... In time, when he deems you worthy you'll find other uses for it than simply to prop you up."

The old man swatted the boy on the butt and told him to run and change into muggle clothing. Harry skipped to the stairs and turned back to him... "where are we going today?" "To a place I haven't called home for more than

seven hundred years... a place that will soon be Forester manor. Hurry up Damon! we've a train to catch!"

Several minutes later they were at the front door, Harry dressed in a maroon sweater and jeans, Merrill in his pin-stripe suit. The boy looked uncomfortably to his grandfather and lifted his staff, "It's a bit conspicuous..." the man snorted, "Tap it twice on the ground and will it to grow smaller." The boy did as he asked and the staff shrank to a simple cane. "Better" The boy grinned up at him and answered, "Not as pretty, but I wont draw stares."

Four hours later they found themselves looking out the compartment window to a quaint village. "this is it? Harry asked. Merrill shook his head, Simply as near as we'll get by muggle means. From here we walk." They set out on a country road and walked for a what seemed to the boy like an eternity. "Grandfather, If you haven't been there for so long, how do you know its still there? Or even if it's still standing?" The old man spoke with a tone that

refused any arguments. "It still stands... Hidden where I left it. Waiting.

They were broken out of their conversation by the sounds of childish screaming and laughter moving towards them along the road. Shortly after they saw a boy that must be close to if not Harry's age with a mop of unruly red hair come running as if the hounds of hell were after him. The boy was within twenty feet of the pair when he first noticed them, he skidded to a halt and stared, unsure what to do. Moments later two more red-headed boys, each a mirror image of the other, came through some brush. "Come on Ron," yelled the first. "It wont hurt..." Said his brother. "We think." they both finished, catching up to him and seeing Harry and his grandfather for the first time. The boys looked to be about eleven and while they too were simply staring, Harry felt like he was being sized up for a target for something or another.

"Good afternoon boys," His Grandfather said. "You'd be the Weasleys I'd guess, or some of them... Is your father about? I'd like a word with him if it's alright." The two older boys looked suspiciously at the old man, "What would you want," said one "to talk to our father for? Spoke the other. The younger boy, Ron, Harry believed his brothers had called him, had been edging away from his brothers until he felt a safe distance and darted off. "I'll run get him!" the boy yelled and was quickly pursued by his siblings. Harry grinned at Merrill,

"Twins!" The old man nodded with a smile.

A short time later a tall, friendly red headed man came up the road and chatted with Merrill while Harry watched different carrot topped heads pop in and out of the nearby bushes. When the two men had finished their conversation they continued. "Well, it seems we're closer than we thought." the old man said. Harry looked up at him, "They knew where it was?" The druid shook his head, "No, Damon, no one but me does. The Weasleys were charged seven hundred years ago to guard the entrance to the Valley, though I doubt any remember why they continue to live here. Fog suddenly rose up about them as they went off the path and into the woods. The old man led them through a dizzying maze underbrush before leaving them all together and standing at the edge of a beautiful valley. At the far end a castle stood gleaming, its White marble bright and shiny as the day it was first milled. "Welcome to Camelot, my boy."


	5. Diagon Alley

The Druids Apprentice

Chapter 5

The next month was spent converting a medieval castle into a somewhat modern manor house. The first week had the two druids scouring the structure looking for, and hiding, any indications of its true history. From then on came the arduous task of Placing windows, re-tiling floors, placing wood paneling on most of the walls and most importantly, running indoor plumbing. Not that they were doing all the work themselves; in fact the first day they started renovations Forester Manor, house elves began showing up on the doorstep, followed shortly followed by pixies and other magical creatures, all ready to help in the castles restoration.

During this time Harry had also become acquainted with the local country and the Weasleys. There were nine in their family all-together with seven still living at home. Arthur and Molly Weasley obviously loved their children and doted on them all. The eldest two, Bill and Charlie, no longer lived at home, after graduating Hogwarts they had both taken jobs. Bill was working at Gringots and Charlie was in Romania studying Dragons.

Next eldest was Percy, a thin, uptight teen that seemed so wrapped up in school and future career plans that he was neglecting his family. Harry felt almost compelled to remind the boy of their importance, as he'd had no family that cared about him until his grandfather had rescued him when he was five. He held his tongue, however, as he didn't want to go into his own past too deeply with them just yet.

After Percy were the twins, Fred and George. The two boys were confusing and often irritating in that they were nearly indistinguishable, even to their own family, and capitalized on it gleefully. It also turned out that they were quite enamored with Pranks and spent much of their time testing new ones on their youngest brother, Ron.

The youngest Weasley boy was Harry's age and would likely go to school the same year. Taking an instant liking to him they spent quite a lot of time talking about everything from quiddich to what candies they liked the best. It was with Ron that Harry had found out how much he loved flying. He had already flown in the forms of different birds, under the direction of his grandfather, but when he was on one of the Weasley brooms, the feeling of the speed and responsiveness he got exhilarating to say the least. His first time in the air, he had landed after several minutes of wild loops and insane dives to a paper-white Ron. "Mate... You can fly!!! I thought I was going to mess myself when you got so close to the ground that last time..." Harry had just grinned to himself and made plans to get a broom of his own next time he was in Diagon Alley.

Last of all was Ginny, youngest child of the Weasleys. She was painfully shy around Harry but also clever and funny when she could be drawn out. She talked endlessly about Harry Potter and it seemed the young girl had a crush on a boy she'd never seen. Harry found it both amusing and troubling at the same time.

The boy was deciding whether to help the elves with the grounds or to go to the Weasleys one morning when Merrill interrupted his breakfast. "Lucius Malfoy has offered to assist me in finding the proper shops to refurnish the manor... Most likely he wants to sound me out as to whether I would be sympathetic to Riddles cause. We'll be going to Diagon Alley and he'll have Draco along as well. It might be a good time to start putting the seeds of doubt in the boy's head about the lies his father's been telling him." The old man wagged his finger at his grandson, knowing full-well the boys impulsiveness. "Remember, be subtle."

Minutes later, two figures emerged from the fireplace in the leaky cauldron. A distinguished looking older wizard in brown robes stepped gracefully into the room followed by a wild haired boy who tumbled, giggling and smudged from the fireplace. "We have to do that more often grandfather! God, that's fun." The old man merely shook his head with a smile and cast scourgify on both himself and the boy who were instantly clean.

Across the room, Lucius Malfoy and his son turned towards the commotion and started over. "Ah, Mr. Forester," said the blond man, "excellent... you remember my son, Draco?" The boy, on familiar ground now, gave a self-confident smirk as he greeted his saviors from the month before with a slight nod. "We've got to stop at Gringots," Harry's grandfather said, "I've some business to attend to there before anything else. Damon, come along as I know you're dying to go exploring."

In all the time traveling and training with his grandfather he had never been inside the wizarding bank. The entry hall was imposing. Huge and dimly lit, its walls were lined with tall desks, each with a vicious looking goblin busy scribbling away on something or another. They passed all of these and proceeded to an even larger desk taking up a good portion of the far end of the hall. Sitting atop it, his hair just a fringe of forlorn white strands, sat an ancient goblin.

Standing up on its chair to see them all, the diminutive creature asked, "Your business?" Stepping forward Merrill held something in the palm of his hand that only the goblin could see clearly but Harry got the impression of a golden key with a numeral one etched on it. "My name is Merrill Forrester," putting special emphasis on the name," I've come to set up an expense account through my vault." The goblin, to its credit, barely blinked when recognizing the key and its owner, regardless of what he called himself. "This way sir."

Minutes later the old man came back carrying two rings. Slipping one on his own finger he handed the other to Harry. "Wear this, when you need to make a purchase, put the seal set in the ring on the receipt and it will be charged against our vault."

Leading Mr. Malfoy and the two boys outside he instructed Harry to enjoy himself but to meet Them back at the Leaky Cauldron at sundown. Draco, getting similar instructions from his father dragged Harry away from the adults and down the street.

Alone for the first time that day, the blond asked a question that had been nagging him since they'd met up earlier. "Forester, what's with the cane? You didn't have it the other day..." "I only need it sometimes. I hurt my leg when I was younger," the boy said, "the cane helps." Intrigued, Draco pushed him for more information, "What happened then, how did you hurt it?"

Harry shrugged, it's a long story, you wouldn't be interested." Almost mad with curiosity, the boy turned and stopped them both. "We're not going a step further until you tell me how you hurt your leg. Putting on a solemn face the brown haired boy said, "Right then, remember, you asked... My grandfather believes that wizards have become weak because they depend so heavily on magic for everything. Ever since I was a baby we lived around muggles and neither my parents nor my grandfather would do magic unless there was noting else for it." Putting just a hint of a tremor in his voice, as his grandfather had taught him, he dropped his eyes down to his shoes and continued softly.

"When I was four my parents and I were in a car crash, I was thrown from it and ended up with a broken hip, spent a month in a muggle hospital. Now I have a metal pin and a scar to show for it. That's why I carry the cane." Horrified by what he suspected, but unable to stop himself, Draco asked, "Your parents?" Harry paused, then went on with a dead voice. "They were knocked out when the car stopped, there was a fire." Harry didn't continue, simply straightened himself and started walking again, rather briskly, his limp now noticeable.

Both boys walked in silence for a time. It had been an act for Harry, carefully rehearsed by him and his grandfather for an emotional punch but he was more than a little surprised that his act had brought him dangerously close to real tears. He couldn't believe he was crying over his parents, he couldn't even remember them. When he'd acted his part out, however there were flashes and feelings he couldn't begin to understand. Harry promised himself he would ask Merrill first thing when they got back to the manor. He was broken out of his reverie by the blonds excited voice, "Quality Quiddich supplies, lets go in."

The shop had the two boys entranced. Moving from one display to another, Harry received a running monolog from the other boy about each broom, its strengths and weaknesses. As Draco rattled on it suddenly struck the brown haired boy where he'd heard all this before. The blond, gushing over a Cleansweep 6, was doing a remarkable impression of Ron Weasley. Finally relenting and buying the broom that Draco was drooling over the two boys left the shop and continued to wander the street.

Coming upon an apothecary, Harry stopped. "Lets go in." Draco, looking exasperated, asked, "Why? Its just potions ingredients and such. That's boring." Harry found such things fascinating, to imagine that such simple, natural substances had such power locked inside them, "Well I just want a look." The blond sighed in resignation, "Fine then, but we get ice cream next."

They entered the dark, musty shop; the walls were lined with jars and sacks holding all manor of items used in the brewing of potions. As Draco juggled a small, purple-hued skull he'd picked up, Harry was wrinkling his nose over an open jar. "This monkshood is worthless... its all old and dried out." The proprietor, taking note of the boys for the first time, scuttled from the counter where he had been talking with a man wrapped in a black cloak and approached the two. "Here now you kids," he said, "Get on with you now. I won't have you little knee-biters in here speaking ill of my wares..." The cloaked man, Unseen until he spoke, interrupted. "A moment if you please Mr. Trill, I would like to hear what the boy has to say." "But Professor..." the little man began before being cut off by the other. "If the _'little knee-biters,' _as you call them, have nothing useful to add then we'll have wasted nothing but time." Turning back to Harry the man nodded, "Continue with what you were saying, Mr...." "Forester, sir." The boy supplied.

The man's dark eyes seemed to bore into his very soul, as if attempting to strip him of all his secrets. Harry shook his head and instinctively erected his mental shields before turning his attention back to the jar. Taking a sprig, he peered at it carefully and held it under his nose. "Like I said before, its' dried out, monkshood needs to be fresh or half of its potency is gone right there." Breathing in the scent again he continued. "This was cut from the plant, probably on a quarter moon. For it to be its best, the it should be harvested either on the new or full moon, depending on what you're using it for." Finally, studying the stem he looked up into the man's eyes. This was cut by a pair of steel snips; Wolfsbane has to be cut with a silver scythe and straight into the jar... the more it's handled the less effective it becomes. This," The boy held the herb out to Mr. Trill, "is a weed."

The hint of a smile crept across the Professor's face. "Is there anything else Mr. Forester?" Shaking his head, he replied, "Yes sir, but that's enough." The man stood motionless, his face inscrutable for several moments. "Yes I believe you're right. Mr. Trill, Hogwarts will be doing business elsewhere for its supplies from now on. Thank you and good day." Giving the little man no time to protest he hustled the two boys from the shop and into the street.

Harry looked to Draco, unsure if he should let this unknown person take charge of them but the sly grin on the other boys face held his tongue for the moment. Looking up at the man, now in the light of day, he took a closer look at him. He wasn't an overly tall or large man, with Black, slightly greasy hair, a largish nose and a definite love of the color black. It was the attitude that this un-assuming figure put forth that made you stop and almost want to step back. The man seemed to exude menace even without consciously trying. Looking back into Harry's eyes, the slight smile from the shop reappeared and he turned to Draco. "He's with you then, Mr. Malfoy?"

Draco, grinning madly, replied. "He is. Damon, I'd like to present Professor Severus Snape, Potions master at Hogwarts school of witchcraft and wizardry. Severus, meet Damon Forester, my friend. Taking the brown haired boys hand, the man said, "Thank you for your little speech in there Forester, That little fool will bend over backwards for months to weasel himself back into my good graces." Professor Snape escorted them to Florean Fortesque's ice cream parlor where bought each boy a cone. He sat with them for a time, listening to them about their day and questioning Harry about his knowledge. "My grandfather is very good with plants and potions, Maybe you'll get to meet him sometime." The dark man nodded, "I think I'd like that, however, for now I must be returning to Hogwarts, The new school year will be starting soon and I must be about preparing my lessons." The potions master rose and wished the boys good day, "I hope to see you both more often. When you attend Hogwarts in two years I hope to see you both in my house." Wishing the two boys good day he left.

The day was getting on so the two boys had begun to wander back towards the Leaky Cauldron when they were both roughly pulled into a side street. Their attackers, Harry counted six of them were older, sixteen or seventeen at a rough guess, dirty and looking quite desperate. The boy let himself go limp, knowing that if they thought he wouldn't fight, that they'd take less care in holding him. Draco, on the other hand, was struggling madly and yelling at the teens. "Stop! You'll be sorry! My father will have your heads!" The boys holding the blond were very large and were quickly losing their patience with the boy.

One of the boys holding Harry roughly grabbed his broom while the other took his cane. "Look Ollie, a cleansweep, fresh from the shop. We'll get twenty galleons for this alone. See what the other brats got." Draco's captor, tiring of the boys struggling, punched him in the stomach and knocking him to the ground. Harry tensed, but bided his time, he would wait for the right moment. The thug searched the blond boy as he lay on the ground moments later he came up with a few coins and a necklace from around the boys neck. Using the distraction created by the boys find, Harry concentrated on his cane and his eyes faded from blue to an emerald green. "Like my cane, do you?" the boy asked softly, "It likes you too... Big kiss." The young man holding the wooden shaft looked at Harry as if he were crazy, the boy had begun hissing like a leaky pipe and he was thinking about clotting the boy with the stick when he was distracted as the wood in his hand suddenly began to writhe and grow. Wincing, he turned not to a shaft of wood, but a writhing King Cobra, hood open in anger and ready to strike.

The girlish scream from the thugs throat created even more confusion as Harry snatched out and grabbed his broom back from the other thug, kicking him solidly in the knee to bring him down to his level then striking him hard enough across the face to knock him out. Mounting his broom he flew headlong into Draco's attackers and bowled them over. "Get on!" The blond boy jumped up behind Harry and nearly fell right back off as the serpent that had been menacing the teens had sprung up and wrapped itself around the other boys arm and shoulders. Everyone accounted for the young druid leaned forward and propelled the broom out into Diagon alley at top speed, much to the loud consternation of the local passersby.

They'd only gone a few hundred yards when Draco yelled in his ear, "Behind us! Two of them!" Risking a glance back the boy saw that two of their attackers from the alley were indeed behind them, riding brooms of their own. "Hold on!" He felt the blond boys hands grip his sides tighter as he began weaving in and out of the signs hanging from the sides of the buildings. Their zig-zag course, moving at break-neck speed soon had them approaching the end of the alley. "Hold on!" with that quick warning to Draco, the boy waited till the last second and pulled up into a tight loop that had them racing back in the opposite direction and past their confused pursuers. The blond boys grip had become crushing around Harry's waist. Shortly their attackers were back on their tail though somewhat farther back. Harry slowed the broom a little bit and began weaving through the signs again. "Why are you slowing down?" screamed Draco. Grinning to himself the boy yelled back, "I'm not done with them yet." Picking up speed, he led his pursuers on a frantic chase leaving behind shouting shoppers in their wake. After one very close call diving under a hanging sign they heard a loud 'Crack' behind them, looking they saw one of the teens tumbling to the ground among the splinters of the ruined placard. Ahead, the leaky Cauldron was growing rapidly and Harry Yelled, "Get ready to jump!" Hoping the other boy wasn't paying attention he cast a quick spell, "_diorseoir_." causing the door of the establishment to leap open, then close as the broom careened in "Jump!" Both boys leapt from the broom and rolled to a stop in the middle of the tavern, nearly at the feet of their guardians. The broom, having no rider leaned itself up against the wall, waiting for its master. They heard a crashing thump through the door they'd just entered by and both boys broke into laughter. Grinning madly, Harry looked up at his bemused grandfather. "We've got to come back tomorrow."


	6. meetings

Disclaimer: Harry Potter and related characters are the sole property of J. K.

Rowling.

I have posted a sketch of what I think Harry/Damon will look like when he starts Hogwarts his first year... it is on my fanfiction profile page.

The Druids Apprentice

Ch. 6

The weeks following their trip to Diagon alley passed in a blur. Renovations to forester manor had been completed and Harry was splitting his free time between Draco, the Weasleys and some children he'd befriended in the nearby village of Ottery St. Catchpole. He had become quite good playing football with them and had mentioned it to both Ron and Draco with hopes of bringing them together through a curiosity about the game.

Merrill had explained the running feud between the Malfoys and Weasleys when the boy had initially suggested the idea of having them both stay over at the manor. Harry was looking for some means of bringing doubt into the blond boys mind about his fathers preconceptions and , possibly, this could be it. The Weasleys were good people and he was sure Draco would benefit from their simplicity and open-mindedness. The thought of using football and the muggle children as a tool for this felt like a stroke of genius to him. Not only would he bring them both together, but if everything worked as he planned they would also be playing with muggles and using no magic of their own.

Harry was on the field one day with several of his muggle friends. There was no real game, just them kicking the ball around and talking when he heard a familiar though suprising voice, "I want food! Mum... I'm Starving!" Wincing, the brown haired boy turned towards the yelling to see the people that should have been his family. Vernon was hunkered over the hood of their car, his face a characteristic red and map spread out in front of him. Petunia, Gaunt and uptight as ever, was fussing over her little 'Diddykins,' who was hollering from inside the air-conditioned car, as if he hadn't eaten in weeks.

The brown haired boy scanned the car and the area around for its fourth occupant and James was nowhere in sight. He was beginning to truly worry until he heard Petunia say, "Where is that blasted boy? We sent him almost an hour ago to get food for my poor baby... Likely he's off spending our hard earned money on himself." Harry collected his jacket and cane from where he'd left them and with a quick goodbye to his mates he was off to find his brother.

The search, he knew, wouldn't be a hard one. There was only one place in the small village that anyone could get prepared food and that was at the Skewered Bore. Both Harry and Merrill had fallen in love with the inn the first time they had entered. The main room, save for the television in one corner, looked to be from a century or more earlier. All the tables and chairs were hand made and the walls covered in wood paneling, the place felt warm and cozy. Harry had made it his business to know an be known by the locals and he had struck up a wonderful friendship with the owner, Ernie MacFinn.

The boy ambled into the establishment and waved to the ruddy faced man behind the bar. "Hey Ern." Leaning forward on his elbows the old man returned, "Top o' the Morning young Mr. Forester... What brings you by this early?" Harry just smiled to the man and waved as he scanned the room with his eyes. Sitting at one end of the bar was a painfully skinny, green eyed boy with broken glasses, doing his best to remain unnoticed. "Oi, mate," Harry said, sitting down by the boy. "Haven't seen you around here before... visiting?"

James blinked and stared at the other boy for a moment, "No." he replied. "My aunt and uncle are taking my cousin Dudley on a trip to the ocean before the end of the holidays... but I think we're lost." Wiping his hand on his shirt, the boy held his hand out to Harry. "I'm Harry, Harry Potter." Letting his eyes go wide in surprise the boy responded, "I know you..." The dumbstruck look on James face was priceless as Harry continued, "My grandfather moved in just beside you, Merrill Forester.. I'm Damon."

The boys conversation was interrupted by the arrival of Ernie with two large bags full of food. "Here we are, Two extra-large fish and chips, one small. That'll be three pounds." James fished out the money that his uncle had given him and with a stricken look said, "I only have two." The old man shook his head and made as if to take away the bags but Harry held up his hand. "Wait Ern, his family is friends with my grandfather, if it's alright, he'll cover it when he comes into town next." Sitting the food back down the old man replied, "Alright then Damon, tell him for me that the football finals are on the tele Friday and I'll be saving him a table." The boy smiled back at the man, "We'll be here."

The two walked silently back towards where the car was parked until James asked, "Have you seen your grandfather lately? He's had me taking care of his garden for a few years and just last month he was just gone." Harry silently cursed himself and Merrill for not anticipating how their sudden move would affect James; Spying a bird perched on a nearby fence post, he whistled at it for several moments. "What are you doing?" asked James, the boy shrugged and answered as the bird flew off in the direction of the manor, "Nothing really, sometimes the birds sing back at you if its done just right."

After a few minutes walk with Harry dragging his feet and distracting James with all kinds of questions about himself, they arrived back at the park where the car had been parked and Vernon was in fine form. His face purple and puffed up as if he'd been bitten by something poisonous. Ignoring Harry, he grabbed James firmly by the shoulder and hissed, "Where have you been boy?" Punctuating each word with a sound shake, a stunned Harry watched as his brother looked ready to come apart from the abuse. "Where have you been you worthless, lazy..."

Seeing red, Harry brought his cane up for a violent swing that would have cracked Mr. Dursleys skull if not for the calming hand that suddenly landed on his shoulder. "My, My Vernon, what brings you here?" Caught unawares by the new voice, Harry's uncle turned rapidly, pulling Harry behind his great bulk. "M...Merrill... How are you..." an oily smile appeared on his puffy face, "we're on holiday before school starts back... Dudley works so hard, we thought it a good way to get his spirits up before going back, And you?"

Merrill clapped a now composed Harry on the shoulder twice. "Here to visit my grandson, Damon. He's been in boarding school since his parents passed. Actually he'll be living with me until he starts at St. Hargow next fall." "Hmmm," Mr. Dursleys stroked his chin, "I haven't heard of it. Dudley will be attending Smeltings, very prestigious you know." The old druid nodded, "Of course, a fine institution. St Hargow is in northern Scotland, so I doubt you'd have heard of it, But like you, our family has attended for generations."

The old mans eyes suddenly lit up with an idea, "I have a thought. Why not leave Harry with us? We'll be going back in a few days and someone needs to prune my garden, I'm sure... it would give you three time to enjoy your holiday properly." Harry watched along with James as a war played itself out on Vernons face. His desire to be rid of the boy battled with a need to know the boy wasn't enjoying himself in any way. Finally he relented with a solemn promise from Merrill to work the boy mercilessly, "If you don't he'll just lay about all day." With a final wave and directions from the old man that would get them anywhere but the ocean, the Dursleys drove off leaving James with the two druids.

The three stood watching as the tail lights of the Dursley's car vanished in the distance. Merrill took James by the shoulder and turned him down the path. "Come my boy, the summer house is a bit of a walk and we'd best get started before night falls." They walked for several minutes and Harry took the time to point out to James the different birds and plants that could be seen along the way.

In the distance they could see a red-headed figure walking towards them. As it drew closer Harry yelled out, "Oi, Ron!" The approaching boy waved back and broke into a swift trot, bringing him to them in just a few moments. As the boy joined the group Harry introduced him to James. "Ron, this is Harry, he lives by my grandfathers city home, he'll be staying the week until we go back." They shook hands and Ron began telling a baffled James all about the Chudley Cannons and going on about quiddich. They walked on until they reached the lip of the valley.

As they stepped in full view of the manor and its estates James let out a startled gasp, not at the beauty that surrounded him, but at the rush of memories that overcame him. Harry, who had been waiting expectantly by his side, whispered, "Welcome back little brother." Until that moment he had truly believed himself to be Harry Potter, son of James and Lilly, and in a sense he was. When he stepped into the Valley he had crossed over into the realm of Avalon, where Camelot resided untouched by the muggle realm and his true identity as James, Harry's magical twin had been restored. Making their way towards the castle, Harry took the time to bring his brother up to date on everything that had happened since they'd left.

Halfway into the telling of the harrowing broomstick chase through Diagon Alley, he was intrupted by Ron. "Cor Damon, I wish I'd been there, who was it with you?" Dreading how the conversation was about to turn, but not letting on, Harry answered. "A boy I met when we were in London a couple months ago. He was the first wizard other than my family I've met. He's the same age as us and his names Draco."

Ron, flabbergasted into silence as they entered the castle finally blurted out, "Malfoy?!" his voice was strained as if even the name was repugnant. "Draco Malfoy? Damon, you can't. His whole family are dark wizards, death eaters!" Harry wheeled on the red-head, his tone icy and his eyes ablaze with anger. "Have you ever met him? What has he done to you that is so horrible that I can't befriend him?" with each quiet word, Harry advanced on his friend. Ron shrank back, frightened by the intensity of the boy. "N... no..., but..." the young druid stopped him and still in the tightly controlled, though angry voice he said, "Then what gives you the right to judge him? I've known him for two months, he's proud, arrogant, and believes a bit too much of the drivel his father spouts, but he's smart, funny and when I've given him the chance he's always done the right thing. You can either accept that he's my friend as well or you can find the door!" Ron, his face nearly red as his hair at that point, roared out, "Fine!" and stormed from the room.

Merrill cleared his throat as the door slammed, "Feeling a bit melodramatic today?" The boy shook his head, "Ron is emotional, he was going to get mad, no matter what I said so perhaps if he vents it all now, when I try again in a couple days he'll be a little better with it."

They entered the great hall, the one-time throne room of the castle. It was lined with benches and statuary and the ceiling was a glass dome, letting in the last of the suns rays. At the far end was a raise dais where the throne had once stood and in the center of the room was a fountain, at its center a beautiful lady stood with her eyes cast down as if in prayer, her hands folded over the hilt of a sword. Harry looked to his grandfather, a look of pleading on his face. Shaking his head the old man relented, "You never tire of his do you?" Smiling the boy walked to the edge of a dark band of stone in the floor that completely surrounded the fountain. Raising his arms and facing the dais, he said in a bold, clear voice, "We, in service to the Pendragon and the code!"

For a moment it seemed nothing had happened, then a low grating could be heard and the band of stone the boy stood before began to rise up out of the floor, until it was waste level to a grown man. All the way around the newly risen table was three feet deep, four inches thick and was supported only by the magic that had raised it. House elves appeared with a chair for each of them and as they sat their dinner appeared before them. James sat, rubbing the dark gray stone before him and looked up at Harry, "This isn't..." The young druid nodded with a grin, "Welcome to Camelot." The two boys were interrupted by a nearby snort. "Like I said, you're awfully melodramatic today. I mean really, you've been half-raised by me for the last five years, is it such a shock when I helped build the damned place?" The boys giggled and tore into their food.

When the plates were empty and taken away by the house elves, James turned back to Harry and asked, "What's so important about getting Malfoy and Weasley together?" The brown haired boy leaned forward and perched his chin on his fists. "You know, that's just it, I'm not sure... In the beginning I simply wanted to expose Draco to a different kind of family that what he's known, but later... I can't explain it but I feel like it's important, like they'll all be sitting at this table someday.

The next morning Harry and James were sparring in the garden with practice swords when Merrill stepped from the house with Draco in tow. "Boys, finish up now, Young Malfoy has arrived." Getting little more than grunts from the wary youths as they stalked each other, the old man gently pushed the blond boy in the direction of the action and warned him not to get too close until the two were done.

Draco studied the two boys as they trained, both wore sweats and muscle shirts, though their feet were bare. Damon, he noticed, was muscular and wiry more so than he would expect for someone who'd just turned ten, he also noticed that his arms had several old and well-healed scars. The other boy was new to him. Black messy hair, green eyes and short, perhaps eight years old. The boy was scrawny and much weaker than Damon but held with a confidence that said he'd done this before. Still though, as they went through their routines, the larger boy was coaching the smaller. "Come on Harry, keep your sword up... that's it, now block down and to the left, hard and slash back right... Good!" After several more minutes, the boy finally dropped the stick, "Enough! H.. Damon... I can't keep up!" Putting his sword down, Damon walked over and patted him on the shoulder, "You did a lot better this time, you'll catch up to me sooner or later."

The two turned towards Draco, who'd been watching them silently. Harry came over and greeted his friend, "Draco... I'm glad your father finally let you come to the manor, will you be staying?" Smirking the blond replied, "You know if your grandfather would just tell my father where the manor is I'd have been able to come sooner, as it is I can only stay the night." Draco turned to James, who had stood silently while the boys talked. "Who's this then?" "A friend," Harry replied, "He lives near my uncles house in the city... Draco, meet Harry." The two boys shook hands and the blond narrowed his eyes. "In the city you say... a muggle then?" "What's a muggle?" James said, playing as if he knew nothing of the wizarding world. "No he isn't," said Harry, though his relatives have raised him like one... I really haven't even told him everything yet."

Both Draco and James both looked at Harry oddly, "Everything about what?" they said in unison. Draco glanced back at James and froze. The blond boy reached out a tentative hand towards the boys head and James made as if to stop him until Harry stopped him with a nearly imperceptible shake of his head. Parting the boys bangs he spied a lightning-bolt shaped scar on James forehead. "My god," Draco said, his face even paler than usual, "You're Harry Potter!"


	7. New friends

The Druids Apprentice

Ch 7

"You're Harry Potter." James looked at the boy uncomprehending, "Yes..." "But... you're famous." The blond said. "Am not." The raven-haired boy seemed confused and not a little put out by Draco's insistence. "You are... You-know-who killed your parents, he tried to kill you as well but it backfired somehow." Shaking his head James replied, "No... they died in a car crash... my aunt and uncle told me so." "No, they didn't," said the real Harry. "Draco's right. I don't know why your family told you what they did but you're famous, 'the boy who lived.'"

They spent the next half hour convincing James of who he was and his place in the wizarding world, the boy looked confused and more than a little upset. "But if all this is true, then why would my family lie to me?" Harry shook his head, "I don't know but maybe because it's so much... I mean they were murdered... maybe they were trying to protect you from it." The boy nodded absently, wanting to ask his aunt and uncle but knowing how they were he doubted he'd like the answer.

He turned to Draco and said, You said your father used to be a death-eater, he served Voldemort." The blond flinched from both the boys tone and use of the dark lords name though he wasn't at all prepared for the following accusation. "He could have had a hand in my parents death."

Draco sat unmoving, thunderstruck by the boys accusation. His face became flushed with anger and he said, "No! My father isn't like that... The only reason he follows V... him.. Is that they agree about purebloods being better than mud bloods."

"Draco!" Harry snapped at the boy, "You can think whatever you want but don't use that word here..." He turned to James and continued, "And you... You've never even met Mr. Malfoy. Both of you calm down, we've go to go down to the village shortly. The two of you stay here and try not to injure each other while I tell grandfather where we're going."

Harry left them in the garden staring uneasily at each other. As soon as he was out of their sight his face fell as he roamed the corridors of the manor and let his mind wander over the events of the last day. With his grandfathers help he'd arranged for james to stay with them for a week and be free of the Dursleys until their return. He had introduced Ron Weasley to the fact that he counted Draco Malfoy as a friend and the results hadn't been glowing. Now that same friend was on the verge of a fistfight with Harry's own twin over an act that the boys father, Lucius, may or may not have participated in nine years ago. What really ate at Harry as he searched for his grandfather wasn't Draco's reaction, or even James to that possibility, but his own.

Entering the great hall the boy found his mentor standing before the statue of the lady, lost in thought. "This was to be the seat of civilization when we constructed it so long ago... The dream of a pure soul that never found fruition in his time. And here we are again, my dear lady, on the brink of enlightenment or chaos." The ancient druid blinked as if waking from a trance and turned to the boy. "Good morning Harry, you're off to the village this morning then?"

The boy didn't answer immediately. He stared at the statue for a moment and asked a question of his own. "Do you ever miss them? Your parents I mean."

Surprised by the boys question, the old man answered, "I'm somewhat of a special case Harry. My father was and is quite... unique though I've never met him. Mother was a mage of some great power and as she died giving birth to me I have no memory of her either. What suddenly has you so interested in our ancestry my boy?"

Harry sat on the edge of the fountain and ran his fingers through the water. "James accused Draco's father of helping in our parents deaths. My brother was so upset I thought he'd hit him."

Merrill's face was inscrutable as he answered, "It would be expected. Save your aunt and uncle, who I would hardly call 'family,' the memories of your parents are the only people that have truly cared for him. The realization that Draco's father may have been involved in their deaths would be quite unsettling."

"It was," the boy responded, "for him." Merrill waited patiently until the boy continued. "You remember when I talked to you about Diagon alley and how the story we made up affected me?" The old man nodded in assent. "It was like that... I feel them in there, a flash of sadness that they're gone or a need to see justice done for their murder but..." Harry met his grandfathers eyes with a look of trouble and uncertainty. "It's almost like they're not real... What's wrong with me?"

Sitting down by the boy, the old man put a comforting arm around him. "There's noting wrong with you lad. In fact you have the benefit of something that James Hasn't, you've been allowed to move on. He is living his life thinking that he is Harry Potter. Your aunt, uncle and cousin are horrible to him so he put his dead parents up on a pedestal. They mean so much to him because they represent the love that he's denied in real life. You, on the other hand," Merrill gave the boys shoulder an extra squeeze, "have a batty old grandfather that loves the devil out of you and because of that you've been able to let them go. It doesn't mean you love them any less than James, just that you are at peace with their memory."

The boy sat there a few minutes just holding on to the old druid. "Grandfather," Harry said, "There are a couple things I need to ask. Well obviously Draco knows that 'Harry Potter' is staying with us. I'm worried that he'll go straight back to his father tomorrow and tell... I need to find a way to get him to keep it secret for now. Also I'm afraid of slipping up around James anymore... trying to remember what to call him and what he knows... what should I do?"

The old man paused for though before speaking. "I'll speak with Lucius about having the boy stay the week, in that time you can either convince him to keep his silence or we'll adjust his memories about your brother. As for James himself, I've noticed the growing complexities in our little fiction. I believe our only option is to take this masquerade to the next level. From this moment on and until the reason for it has past, he will be Harry Potter just as you must remain Damon Forester."

The brown haired boy was visibly upset by the notion and started to speak but was shushed by his mentor. "Think lad, James has lived the life you'd have led, he's _been_ Harry Potter since you both were five." The old man ran his hands through the boys hair, "I know it's a lot to ask, a name defines who you are. If you are against this I will not force you but for James sake, your own, think on it."

Harry stood, his eyes unfocused as he battled with the emotions running around inside him. Having some trouble breathing normally he tried to ask his grandfather, "Whh... James... he's..."

The old man wiped newly forming tears from the boys face and smiled gently down at him. "Harry, he is and will always be your brother. You both share a soul and will be a part of each other for the rest of your days. Know this and take comfort that in his heart he will know it as well."

With a scratchy voice and puffy eyes the boy said, "Do it."

"Right then," the old man said as he stood the boy up. I'll alter his memory spell. I think it best you go back to the garden in case he becomes disoriented. Merrill ruffled the boys hair and pushed him towards the door. "Now off with you before they think you left without them." As the boy was making to leave the room, the old man called out to him. "Damon." The boy turned back to his grandfather, "Regardless of what you're called I love the both of you boys very much and am very proud to be your grandfather."

Damon ran back to the gardens feeling much better about his decision. He found his friends chatting uncomfortably almost exactly where he'd left them. "Right then you two. Grandfather knows where we're off to, lets go."

The boys walked along the road leading to the village. Damon and Draco spent their time explaining about magic and the wizarding world to Harry. So intent on their discussion that Damon almost missed seeing the redheaded boy leaning against a tree near the path kicking dust around with his shoe.

Damon, finally noticing the redhead, called out. "Oi! Ron!" The youngest Weasley boy looked up and walked towards them with the face of someone eating something quite sour.

"Hi Damon, Harry. Look, I'm sorry about yesterday. It's just that Mr. Malfoy, Draco's father, he works with my dad at the ministry. He's seen how he really is."

"Um... Ron..." Damon said, his tone a warning to the boy. Draco stood rigid behind him, unnoticed as of yet by the redhead.

"He's a total git... Malfoy has tried loads of times to get my dad sacked. I just don't see how his son could be any different, apple from the tree and all that."

"Ron!" Damon yelled with quite a bit of force. Draco chose that moment to walk past the boys and confront the Weasley boy directly.

"Who are you then?" The blonds face was flushed with anger but his voice cold as ice. "And what makes you think you can say all those things about my father and get away with it?" Having no further use for words he shoved Ron Hard and in moments they were both on the ground pummeling each other.

"Shouldn't we do something?" asked Harry.

Damon studied the two boys wrestling on the ground. "Let them go a while. They're too hard-headed to listen to reason right now anyway." The two boys watched the action for several minutes as Ron, then Draco would get the upper hand for a few fleeting moments.

Damon's attention was suddenly drawn to the trees by a shadow moving among them. Concerned that he hadn't heard anything before that he stretched his senses outward and went rigid with alarm. Moving quickly he grabbed Draco, who was currently on top of the other boy and pulled him to his feet. "Get up both of you... we're in serious trouble."

Both boys, bloody and with new bruises forming loudly asked Damon what was wrong. "Come on." The boy said as he dragged them down the trail for several meters before stopping short. "Damn... they've blocked us off front and back... quick into the woods, follow me!"

The three boys almost questioned Damon until they noticed the shadowy figures melting out of the forest around them. They were men, or at least had the shape of men. At least a dozen, all dressed in Roman armor. They were completely black. Skin, hair, armor and weapons. Advancing on them one of the warriors walked through a tree, leaving a coat of frost on the tree where he'd touched it.

"Come on! Run!" the brown haired boy urged his companions to follow him as they darted through the woods. The creatures, surely these were no real men, continued to follow them. They moved slowly but as they simply passed through the underbrush they made better time than the four boys.

"What are they?" yelled Harry as they continued to run.

Between breaths Damon yelled back, "Shades I think, I'm not sure. Just run!"

Damon moved through the forest as only a true druid could. The underbrush almost seemed to move out of the way for him. The others were less fortunate and both Harry and Draco fell several times as they were unused to such activity. It was Ron, however, that was the first to injure himself in the chase.

As they were scrambling over a great fallen tree the boys leg slipped between some branches and as he fell over there was a faint crack followed by a scream. "Get him." ordered Damon as he dug a small berry out of his pouch.

Draco and Harry each took one of Ron's arms and ran on in the direction Damon had pointed. The brown haired boy, waiting till their backs were turned, crushed the berry in his hand and whispered a request to Bile, spirit of fire, and threw out his hand. A tongue of flame leapt forth and created a wall of magical fire that didn't touch the forest but drove back the shades temporarily. Whispering a quick thanks he ran on to join his friends.

Catching up to them took no time as they were moving at a crawl with the injured boy. They ran on, their pursuers again silently closing the distance between them. When they were almost in the range of the creatures touch they burst into a sun-dappled clearing that the shadows could not follow. One such creature that tried burst into flames and vanished.

The four gathered by a rock at the center of the clearing. Harry and Draco eased Ron down to sit against the stone as Damon checked the boys leg. The redheads lower leg and knee were swollen and red and he would hiss in pain at the slightest touch. Pulling a folding knife from his pocket, the young druid cut open the leg of Ron's jeans.

"I don't think it's a bad break but you've twisted your knee I think when you fell. Here," The boy pulled out a hand full of berries and gave one to Ron. These are called Goodberries, my grandfather makes them. They'll make you feel rested and full and heal your injuries a little. It's not strong enough to fix your leg completely so we'll likely have to splint it and carry you out... if we can get past the shades anyway."

Gazing worriedly at the milling forms Draco asked, "What do they want with us anyway? And what's keeping them from getting at us now?"

Damon shook his head. "Grandfather told me about shades before. Muggles that died some horrible way and want revenge on the living. I haven't heard anybody talking about strange occurrences in the village so something recent must have stirred them up. But the only reason they wouldn't have followed us into the clearing is that it must be holy ground, maybe a druids circle."

Irritably, Draco asked, "I don't suppose your grandfather happened to mention how to get rid of them did he?"

"No," the boy replied sheepishly. "He did say that they have to stay near their bodies and have to go back to them to rest... maybe if we wait they'll leave."

Wait the boys did. They spent hours sitting and talking about nothing and everything. Even Ron and Draco got into a spirited discussion about Quiddich. Damon sat watching the boys talk with a satisfied smile on his face when he noticed a pair of tiny blue eyes floating in the air above the rock they were sitting against.

Trying not to alarm his friends, the boy rose and attempted to get a better look. Two rows of needle-like teeth appeared as he watched. They seemed dangerous, not because of their sharpness, but rather that they resembled either one of the Weasley twins with a new victim to play with.

"_Greetings Harry Potter, heir of Merlin."_ said a voice. Damon whipped his head around, fearing the explanations he would have to give to his friends. The other three remained oblivious, continuing their argument about who was the best quiddich team. His eyes turning back to the top of the stone he found that the form of a small dragon with butterfly-like wings had appeared and now wore the eyes and smile that had been there before. "_They can't hear me young druid. I speak only to your mind and can hear your thoughts."_

"_Who are you?" _thought the boy. "_What do you want?_"

"_My dear boy, I am Fafnir and you children have come into my home."_

_The boy thought hard and sent, "You're a faerie dragon aren't you? My grandfather's mentioned your kind before... and told me to keep my distance."_

_Damon felt a thrill run up and down his spine. It took him a moment but he interpreted it as the creatures laugh. "How is the old coot anyway? He hasn't been back to visit since he sealed the castle. I would guess he's re-opened it as his little fan club is running through the forest again." Fafnir nodded out to the shades still waiting for the boys in the trees._

The boy was thunderstruck. "_The shades? What does grandfather have to do with them?_

"_They're Roman soldiers, boy," _said Fafnir_, "sent by Caesar Constantine to re-take the British isles. They were led into a bloody ambush by the armies of Uther and by Merlin himself. If he's reopened the castle their rest would be disturbed and seek revenge again."_

_"So how do we stop them?" the boy asked. "We can't touch them and my friends don't know how to use magic yet."_

"_You cant. It is up to Merlin to put them to their final rest. Either way the shades are returning to their resting place. You can be on your way in a moment. Perhaps you'll see me again, I've been wanting to visit the old castle again for some time." _With those words the little dragon vanished again and a faint whirring of wings told of its departure.

Just as Fafnir had said, the shades were no longer visible among the trees. Waiting several minutes in the waning hours of daylight they finally set off for and found the road. As the day was mostly gone they began walking back to the manor, the boys taking turns helping Ron walk.

"You know Forester," said Draco. "Every time we go somewhere we get chased or beaten up."

"I've noticed that." replied the boy.

"Thugs, ghostly soldiers and now we've broken Weasleys leg." the blond smirked, "I have only one thing to ask."

The boys passed the ridge into the valley, the sun was setting behind the castle, bathing the stones in brilliant shades of red. "Whats that?" said Damon.

"So where are we going tomorrow?"


	8. Let the circle now be joined

The Druids Apprentice

Ch 8

Merrill came upon the boys' moments after they entered the valley. "What's happened to you boys?" The old man asked them. He spent the next several minutes trying to decipher what had happened from the stories of four very excited ten-year-old boys.

"Stop." Said the man finally in desperation. "Let me at least have a look at young Ronald's leg."

Without further comment he knelt down and gently took the boy's leg in his hands. Whispering so quietly that only Damon could hear him he called on Druada to mend the boys injuries. After just a few moments the redhead felt a warm tingly run through his body and the old man told him to try standing on his own.

"It feels alright." Said the boy as he took a couple steps then jumped in place a few times.

"There now," the old druid said. "Everyone run down to the manor, Damon and I will be along shortly. Oh. I almost forgot... Draco, I've talked to your father and you'll be staying the week with us if you wish." With a grin suddenly lighting the boy's face he nodded eagerly. "Ronald, I believe you should floo your parents and let them know if you'll be staying the night. Now run along." Turning to his grandson he asked again, "What happened?"

Damon did just as Merrill asked. He explained about the meeting with Ron and the subsequent fight. The old man flinched visibly as the boy explained about the shades, their flight through the woods and Ron's injury. Finally, when the brown haired boy explained their experiences in the druid's circle and the conversation he'd had with Fafnir, the man's face took on a bemused look.

"All this on a quiet walk to town," the mage murmured. "Why didn't you call me when the chase started? There were several ways you could have done it without being noticed."

Looking sheepish, the young boy answered, "I know and I was going to but wile we were running and especially after Ron got hurt..." The boy looked urgently to his mentor, willing him to understand. "They were looking after each other. When Ron broke his leg Draco stopped and went back to get him. The same thing happened in the clearing. Draco started to lose it and Ron purposely started an argument with him over quiddich to take his mind off the shades. They were getting along Merrill!"

"So," the old man said with eyes blazing. "In an effort to get your friends to play nice you put them into a situation where they were in mortal danger?"

"Pretty much, yeah." Said the boy in a small voice.

"Humph..." said the old man. "You're learning faster than I'd expected." The old man took the boys shoulder and guided him towards the castle.

"What will you do about the Shades?" The boy asked.

"I suspect I'll have to exorcise them," answered the druid with a pensive look on his face. "Though I'll have to study up on them a bit first."

The four friends followed Merrill's advice and spent the waning hours of the day at play. When darkness finally fell everyone gathered in the library before the fire. Merrill sat at his desk pouring over ancient texts; Draco and Ron were playing their third round of chess on the rug before the hearth, each had one a game previously and Harry and Damon sat together on the couch, the brown haired boy holding an oddly shaped board and explaining the project he had started on with his grandfather.

"When Draco and I were being chased through Diagon alley that day I noticed that though the broom was fast it didn't turn or maneuver very quickly. When I got home I'd remembered seeing muggle snowboarders on the telly and some of the tricks that they could do seemed almost like magic. I talked Grandfather into helping me make this board to work like a broom, we've got the shape right I think but we're still working on the right enchantments for it."

"Dudley had a skateboard once... He broke it the first day." Harry smiled to himself at the memory of Dudley's face as he stood dumbly on the pieces of the fractured board. He was pulled from his reverie by a chuckle from Merrill.

The old man had looked up from his books and said "Has Damon told you yet about his first attempt to stand on the board the other day?" The comment had drawn Draco and Ron's attention to him as well.

"Grandfather, I don't think it's really necessary..." the boy began as his face tinged pink. "Did I tell you we think we can get the board to go quite a bit faster than a comet 260?" Try as he might though, the old druids words had intrigued the other boys.

"What happened Mr. Forester? Asked Draco with a gleam in his eye.

"I had just put some of the initial charms on the board; levitation and a sticking charm so as to not have the rider falling off at high speeds. Young Damon came in and saw the board hovering over the table and without a word, jumped up on the table and then to the board. Unfortunately I hadn't put the anchoring charm on it yet so the moment he touched it the board was pushed by his weight and they both hit the wall. There was also no righting charm on it so after it hit he lost his balance and the board flipped over and he hit the ground." The boys were fighting hard to control their giggles as the old man went on. "Now picture the scene as I came in several minutes later. The board is floating upside down four feet in the air. In his attempts to free his feet he now had his hands stuck as well to its surface."

By this point the boys had collapsed in gales of laughter. Even Damon was smiling as he remembered how silly he must have looked. The night drew to a close and the boys retreated to the young druid's bedroom where the house elves had conjured three other beds. Damon wished everyone goodnight and lay planning the events for the next day.

Morning came and Draco, Ron and Harry met Merrill in the dining room. Of the mans grandson there was no sign.

"Mr. Forester," said Draco, "have you seen Damon? He wasn't in his bed when we woke up this morning."

"He left on a run quite early." The old druid said as he buttered a scone. "He does this every morning and will be back soon. If you want you can wait for him in the garden."

The boys thanked the old man and robbed the table of all the fruit, bread and cheese as they went outside. Standing in the rear entrance to the castle, the boys looked off into the distance. Rolling hills and a forest seemed to run on forever. Far away by a lake they could see a tiny figure running in their direction.

"Hold on a tic." Ron said with a thoughtful look on his face. "Did you notice the sun was out today?"

"So?" answered Draco. "It does happen sometimes."

"Yeah but it was sunny yesterday as well. In fact it's been like this every other time I've been here. Not only that but when you come into the valley the manor sits on the other end with mountains behind it... where are they?"

The friends stared off into the countryside contemplating the little mystery that they'd discovered as they waited for the young druid. Minutes later the boy stopped before them his cheeks flushed but he was barely even breathing hard for such a long run. He could tell something was wrong. All three of his friends had serious and inquisitive looks on their faces. Checking himself to make sure he didn't have anything fuzzy or odd hanging from his clothes he looked up and asked,

"What? What's wrong?"

"Where are we?" asked Draco.

"Forester Manor," the boy replied, "you know that."

The blond didn't let the question rest, however, "But where is forester manor exactly? It's supposed to be in a valley hidden from muggles but look." He pointed to the countryside before them. "It's a bleedin' forest!"

"And why did the shades suddenly pick now to get all twitchy?" Ron asked.

The brown haired boy stood motionless as he considered his options. He could fix this, make some excuse and have his grandfather modify their memories later tonight. It would be the easiest thing to do but it could backfire if his friends ever found out about it. Telling the whole truth was no better. If Draco learned of his destiny he would likely go back to his father with the information and they would begin shaping them in Voldemort's image. His third option was risky as well but one he believed he could use to work for him on several fronts.

"Alright, I'll tell you but not now. Wait till tonight after Merrill goes to sleep." The boys agreed and Damon spent the rest of the day keeping them busy as he planned out the night's events in his head.

Merrill took them to the village where they spent a large portion of the day with the other children playing football. The sight of the old man purposely making a fool of himself as he tried to keep up with a pack of adolescent boys was a sight to see. After a time he sat out and let the youngsters have their fun without his interference.

All of Damon's friends had a wonderful time. Harry, familiar with the game even if he hadn't played it much quickly caught on and his speed and reflexes scored him several goals. Ron, after figuring out the game talked the captain of his team into wild strategies that were imaginative and successful. Draco had been the brown haired boys only worry. When they had all started the blond had refused to even come onto the field, declaring the (muggle) sport dirty and below him.

As the game had progressed, however he had become interested and even shouting encouragement to Damon and his other friends before he was finally dragged onto the field and taught the basics. Before too much time had passed he was playing on a level equal to Harry's and ended up playing goal, which he was quite good at defending.

Lunch was had at the Skewered boar. The food was greasy and hot and the boys loved it. Merrill and Erne kept the boys in stitches with their funny stories and when they finally left the old man sent them on their way with an open invitation to return whenever they wanted.

Arriving back at the manor they spent the balance of the evening in the library as the old man told stories of ages past when wizards were as feared as dragons. Damon and Merrill also spent more time on the board and the maze of spells that would have to be cast to make it work correctly. They all stayed up quite late and finally when bedtime came the old man shooed them back to the boy's room and retired himself.

Lying in bed Damon controlled his breathing to make it sound as if he was asleep. He hoped that the boys would be so tired from the day's events that they would forget about his promise and he'd have another day to prepare. When he had almost fallen asleep himself he was started awake by the sound of feet scraping across the floor towards him. Cursing himself silently for agreeing to do this he got up as well. All three boys stood before them in pajamas and their housecoats. Motioning for them for silence he led them out of the room and down to the great hall. Waiting until they had all entered, he closed the door and said.

"Alright you can talk now. There's a silencing spell on the room when the door is closed."

"That's why you dragged us all the way to this chilly room in the dark of night Forester? Draco said testily. "For a bloody silencing spell?"

"No." The boy replied. "For you to know what I have to tell you we all have to make an oath of silence. I needed us here because it has to be a blood oath."

Ron's face paled and Harry looked more than a little put out by the idea but Draco threw a fit.

"A blood oath? Are you just melodramatic are you insane? Nobody's done something so... barbaric in... well a really long time. What makes you think I'd let you or anybody put a knife to me and take my blood for some silly little secret?"

"Fine then." The brown haired boy said and shrugged his shoulders. "First I'd never cut you unless you were okay with it but without the blood oath I'm not telling anyone a thing." They all stood staring at each other for a minute until Harry broke the silence.

"If it's that important I'll do it." He said. "I trust you Damon."

Ron also agreed. "Alright but just because I want to know... It won't be a lot of blood... will it?" Damon shook his head with a smile and turned to the blond.

"Come on Draco, it's all of us or none."

Looking very unhappy the boy said, "Let's just get this over with Forester."

"Right then," the young druid said. He had them all take off their housecoats and roll up the pants legs on their pajamas so they could wade to the statue at the center of the fountain. Standing before the beautiful lady he sang slowly, first in Gaelic and then in English.

These four stand before you

Heirs of the order we

Do swear our loyalty unto

The circle yet to be

Lay your gaze upon us

Judge our hearts and minds

An oath we give you freely

The circles power binds

Hear our blood oath given

A knighthood newly coined

Heal that which was riven

Let the Circle now be joined.

The water eddying around their knees suddenly rippled as if stirred from beneath. Changing to a silvery color, the water resembled nothing so much as a puddle of moonlight. Damon turned to them and said, "From here there is no turning back. After I go each of you use your full name and say what I am about to say."

He positioned himself before the statue, took his right hand and wrapped it around the stone blade in the lady's grasp. "I, Damon Xavier Forester, do swear by blood, the circle and the code; the secrets shared between us shall not pass beyond. I am bound to my brothers as they are to me." Finishing the oath, the boy squeezed the sword even more tightly until a trickle of blood rolled down the blade and disappeared into the stone.

Standing back and holding his injured hand to stem the flow of blood he watched silently as Ron and then Harry each underwent the oath. He felt an extra twinge in his hand as his brother offered his hand to the blade, the pain communicated to him through their bond.

Finally Draco went. The boy was obviously afraid of cutting himself but having seen all three friends already doing it he refused to back down. He finished the oath and grasped the blade tightly as the others had done but when his blood touched the blade he fell to his knees as fire swept up his arm and raged through his body. Unseen by him all of the other boys had also fallen, their bloody hands also burning from the inside.

After a seeming eternity that couldn't have lasted more than a few moments the pain subsided and the boys all stared at their hands. In the place of the cut was circular scar slightly larger than a galleon. Inside it was the image of a crouching dragon. As they watched the image faded from red to a light pink. In the morning all they would have to remind them of the nights events is a nearly invisible white scarring on the palms of their hands.

"What was that?" said the blond boy breathlessly.

"That was the blood oath taking hold," Said Damon. "Don't worry, it should never hurt like that again." Damon led them out of the fountain where they put their housecoats back on and followed him a slight distance away.

"First you must all understand that anything we four agree to keep secret will be just that. None of us will be able to tell, write or even think something so that another can find it out. Now as to why the manor and everything around it acts like this is because it's how my grandfather wanted it when he helped build the castle."

"Damon, that's impossible." Ron said. "The castle has to be at least three or four hundred years old. Your grandfathers a bit on in years but nothing like that..."

"The two of them are much older than you think, Ron." Turning back to the fountain the boy raised his hands and called out, "In service to the Pendragon and the code!"

The boys' eyes popped out as the round table rose again from the floor. Taking a seat offered by one of the house elves, Damon ordered butterbeers for the lot of them. The other boys sat in their proffered seats as the meaning of the table and what it stood for became clear.

"This can't be right," Draco said at length. "For this to be what you're making it out, the castle and Merrill would have to be almost two thousand years old!"

"One thousand, six hundred and seventy six years to be exact." Said a voice from the shadows." The boys whirled to see the speaker and Merrill moved into the light. "Though I am a few hundred years older than the castle."

"Grandfather," the boy began. "I..."

"No, Damon," the old man said. "You've used ancient and powerful magics without my permission or guidance. Boys," he said, turning to the remaining three. "Run back to bed, I'll see you in the morning. Damon, stay with me a bit."

Waiting until the door closed behind the retreating boys, Merrill turned on Damon angrier with the boy than he'd ever been. "What," the old man asked barely keeping his voice calm "could have possessed you to take the risk of using such a powerful and dangerous spell?"

"I had to do something," the boy replied. "They were figuring things out, things we missed and I didn't want to take the chance of obliviating them."

"Damon... Harry, where did you learn that particular spell?"

The boy shrugged his shoulders dejectedly. "I didn't. I mean you showed me how to do a blood oath long ago; but when I had the idea to use it, the great hall seemed the perfect place. When I had them all here I knew what I was doing but the words were coming to me like I was reading them out of a book; I knew what I had to say."

Merrill rubbed his face with his hands feeling his years more strongly as he considered the implications of the boy's words. Somehow he had brought his friends together and performed an intricate ceremony that he'd had no prior knowledge of until it had been completed. Turning his attention to the statue at the center of the fountain, he let his thoughts travel back to the last time he'd seen the lady and spoken with her.

_She stood on the deck of the small ship, the body of the fallen king laid out in repose before her. Beautiful as ever, she was otherworldly and somehow at the same time as human as any woman torn by grief. Beside her stood the king's wife, her face drawn and pale as they waited to depart their beloved England and take her first love to his rest._

_"Lady," he said. "Do not leave. I know I erred in making Arthur, so young an ill prepared, king. He wasn't ready and the dream came undone but it wasn't my intent. I only sought to bring light to the darkness."_

_The beautiful woman gazed down on him with infinite sadness in her eyes. "You were charged with the protection of the land. Look around you o' great druid and tell me of your success." Merlin didn't turn, there was no need. He'd walked through the desolate countryside, burned fields and shattered homes to reach the shore. His own boots were caked with the blood of the slain armies around him._

_"Morgan, please." The old man begged._

_"You have broken a sacred trust with us and though you one day may be forgiven, this will never be forgotten. The circle has been broken and hope will fade until the true king returns again." The boat shifted away from the shoreline and began sailing out to sea. "Farewell Merlin, we will not meet again in this world."_

The old druid snapped out of his musings to see his grandson still staring, waiting for whatever punishment the old man chose to inflict on him. Merrill strongly suspected, however, that Morgan had guided the boy into restoring the circle. He didn't know why she would do this when none of them except Damon had any chance of defending the land against its enemies but he'd never pretended to understand the logic of women. Without another word of explanation he sent Damon back to bed and sat the rest of the night alone with the statue of his love.

Thanks for all the positive reviews I've gotten, please continue...R&R


	9. Growing up

The Druid's Apprentice

Chapter 10

Disclaimer: She owns it, I don't.

It was a beautiful spring morning in the forested hills north of the manor. Viewed from a distance the four figures navigating a narrow trail running along a steep hillside seemed little more than ants. Viewed closer, the figures were obviously human, and if you were among them you could tell that the boy leading them wished he were anywhere else.

"Idiot."

"Moron."

"Dolt."

"Troll snot."

"Shut it you two!" Damon said in desperation. They had been on the trail since before dawn and the constant bickering between Ron and Draco had worn too thin a long time ago. Actually, he knew that in the five and a half months since the oath, the relationship between the two boys had developed into something similar to brotherhood. Somehow, though he doubted they would ever learn to get along.

"Wanker."

"Bloody poof."

They had set out that weekend to explore these hills and to advance their training to another level. All three of his friends had become somewhat adept at hand-to-hand fighting and were now able to cast some of the simpler ancient spells wandlessly. Every possible weekend the boys would get together and either train with Damon or study the very nature of magic with the boy's grandfather. They'd also become part of the local football team in Ottery St. Catchpole. Initially Sharing a mutually distain for the muggle sport, with practice and a few exciting games under their belt they'd soon become obsessed. Though Ron's family had become fascinated by the boy's pastime, save Percy, Draco hadn't even had the nerve to tell his father as of yet.

"Snake breath."

"Weasel."

Harry had benefited from their sleepovers as well. He wasn't able to attend them as regularly as the other boys thanks to the Dursleys and particularly Vernon's lack of desire to see the boy have any enjoyment of his own. But despite that the boy had still filled out thanks to good food and exercise when he could make it. The boy was with them this time and if things continued he'd be the only one to make it to the campsite alive.

"Bag sniffer."

"Your mother..."

"Hold on, no families remember."

"Right then... err. Bogart bandit!"

"Stop! Err. This spot will do," said Damon. They'd come to a medium sized clearing and to the young druid's eyes it looked right. He turned to look over his friends, noting the changes in them since they'd gotten together. Harry was the most obvious. He'd been so pale and skinny from the Dursley's treatment but now he looked Healthy and tanned. He'd become more the extrovert as well, acting impulsively at times, reminding Damon of himself.

Ron had changed little, physically; his true growth had been his attitude. He was calmer now, more centred. 'God forbid,' he thought to himself. 'But maybe we have a Weasley that thinks before he acts.' He turned his attention to his friends and unknowing student, Draco and felt a measure of pride. The changes in the blond had been the greatest but most subtle. The boy still wore his trademark sneer, but the meanness that the boy's father had tried to instil, that had been just visible in his eyes had vanished. In its place was humour, and even true warmth when he thought no one was looking.

Damon had them all sit cross-legged on the grass in a close circle before him. He handed each a small stone on a loop of leather, each was inscribed with tiny and intricate Gaelic runes. "Grandfather created these necklaces for the next part of your training." He said as he sat down among them. "They are spelled to remain around your neck until such time as you consciously wish to remove them. Their power is to unlock the animagus form you will take if you ever wish to learn how. Today, however, the necklaces will give you a taste of what it's like."

The boys shifted excitedly as each held their stone. Ron took on a troubled look and said, "Damon, my dad said that it takes years to become an animagus. How is some stone going to give us all that in one day?"

"The stone won't make you an animagus, Ron," the boy said, "it will simply show you what you'll become if you ever want to try. It's the stone's magic that will bring the transformation." As no one had any more questions, Damon had them all close their eyes and put themselves into the light trance that they used to calm themselves before training sessions.

"Your animal form is inside you, it is part of who you are. It waits inside you from the moment of birth and rages to be free." The young druid's eyes faded again to emerald green and said in a soft voice "look deep inside yourselves now, the beast waits. When you do find it, set it free." The stones on each boy's chest began to glow with a soft light and pulse in tune with each boy's heartbeat.

Harry was the first to change and Damon was hardly surprised, considering the boy's magical nature and the fact that he was his brother. The young druid winced along with the boy's moans as muscle and bone twisted and stretched into its new shape. When all was done a jet-black wolf cub with green eyes padded in a small circle on wobbly legs.

Next was Ron. Slowed by his own fear he eventually leaned forward onto all fours and began to sprout reddish brown fur all over his body. Clothes melded into flesh and soon the boy was replaced by a young hound. The pup turned his weary eyes to Damon and barked once.

Lastly was Draco. Hard-headed as always, Damon was sure the boy was unwilling to give himself up to the beast. Still, the change was inevitable and as white fur covered pink skin, a silver fox took his place. The three young pups milled together for a minute, then dashed off into the clearing to play. Damon watched them go with a wistful sigh. He wanted to join them but he knew someone would have to stay alert for dangers until they had become familiar with their new bodies.

"A penny for your thoughts." The boy smiled, a few years ago he would have jumped out of his skin at the sudden, unexpected voice. Now, though he was more than used to the sudden appearances of his grandfather.

"Just thinking." The boy replied.

"Ah, yes, thinking. I remember it well." The old man sat down by him on the grass. "You know, one of the few regrets I have since taking you on is having you grow up so fast. Even when you were ten, you were wiser than your years. Now you have sixteen years of experience in a nearly eleven year old body and I know you feel like an outsider sometimes."

"I feel the difference sometimes," the boy said, "but the last eleven years of my life have been better than I could have ever hoped for." He looked up into the old man's eyes. "You gave me a childhood and a family I wouldn't have had otherwise. Thank you."

The old man pulled him into a one-armed hug and then ruffled his hair. "All well and good lad but I want you to go be a cub again for a bit." The boy stood up, a big smile on his face and jumped onto all fours. By the time his h ands had hit the ground they were paws, and a cougar cub ran out to frolic with his friends.

Hours later four weary cubs padded back into the campsite, each found their spot and curled up to sleep. The old man stoked the fire one more time as each returned to their human forms, he stood and dusted his hands before vanishing like he'd never been.

Draco woke and cracked an eyelid and glanced around, darkness shrouded the clearing. By starlight he could see both Harry and Ron sleeping, heads on their packs. Unable to see Damon, he sat up and looked around. He spotted the boy standing on a high spot in the clearing, staring up at the stars. The blond walked up and joined him in silence.

"It's so peaceful out here," the young druid said, "I'm going to miss it."

"What do you mean?" Draco asked, turning to his friend with a frown.

"In about three months we start to school, peaceful moments like this are going to be harder and harder to find after that. Grandfather is taking me to Hogwarts tomorrow to make sure my name is down to go."

"You make it sound almost scary," said the blond, "it's just school."

Damon continued looking out into space and said, "Don't you wonder why my grandfather decided to suddenly appear again after so long? There's a big war coming and it'll change the world for everyone, wizard and muggle alike.

"Dumbledore is planning on using Harry as a tool for the light just like Voldemort will use your father and likely you for the dark. They'll both manipulate whomever it takes to win this war regardless of whom it hurts. It will be the end justifying the means."

"But Merrill is planning on doing the same thing isn't he?" asked Draco, "For his own ends."

At this the young druid barked a short laugh. "I said the same thing to him when I was five."

"What did he say?"

"He gave me a choice." The boy replied. "I could train under him and go in with both eyes wide open or be blindly manipulated by men who would use me for their own ends."

"This sucks, you know." Said Draco finally. Damon nodded as the first rays of the sun began to peek over the horizon. The blond boy and the young druid stood silently for a bit then Draco's eyebrows came together in confusion and he said, "Wait a sec, I can understand Harry or me, but why would you have to make that choice? Nether Dumbledore or Voldemort even knows you exist yet."

"We'd best get back to camp," said Damon, starting off down the hill, "everyone will be up soon." The blond stood staring after his friend in thought for a long time before following him down the hill.

-

* * *

The entire staff was present in the great hall for the end of term meeting. Classes were out and the students would be gone for two whole months. They had settled in for lunch when a tapping was heard coming from the great doors at the end of the hall. Dumbledore, caught oddly unawares, looked up curiously from his meal.

"I don't suppose anyone was expecting visitors today?" he asked. Getting a negative reply he scrumptiously took his wand in his hand and nodded to Mr. Filch. "Let them in Argus, if you'd be so kind."

The old caretaker walked to the door with a characteristic grimace on his face. He opened the doors wide and revealed an old man in a tweed suit. His white hair and beard were cropped short and he seemed, if anything, older than Albus. At his side stood a young brown haired boy of ten or eleven. Wearing jeans, t-shirt and trainers. The boy carried a cane in his right hand and walked with a slight limp as they approached the head table.

Not waiting for the headmaster to speak the old man said, "Albus Dumbledore?"

The headmaster, allowing some of the tension to escape, released his wand and steepled his fingers before him. "That would be me, and what can I do for you Mr...."

"Forester, Merrill Forester. I doubt you'd remember, but we met quite some time ago when you received the order of Merlin after the whole Grindewald affair."

The twinkle that had been missing from the headmaster's eyes was suddenly back at full force. Snape had told him of his encounter with Draco and young Mr. Forester several months back. Now his grandfather, patriarch of one of the oldest wizarding families in all of England, had shown up on their very doorstep.

"I do remember, though it has been quite some time. What can we do for you?"

"Firstly, you can call me Merrill," said the old man, "secondly my grandson," he took the boys shoulder, who nodded to the assembled wizards and again to Snape, "will turn eleven on August 1st. Having been abroad, I wanted to come in person to make sure his name is down before the beginning of term."

"Of course, I'll see to it myself. Could I offer you a bit of lunch?"

Merrill shook his head and laid a hand on the neck of his grandson, who was still staring fixedly at the end of the table where Snape was. "We have to be going. Promised to show the lad Hogsmeade." Wishing them all a good day, the old man turned and guided his grandson out of the hall.

As they left the grounds, the old man asked, "So what do you think?"

"Lets see," the boy said, "The war hasn't started yet but Voldemort has not only invaded their school under Dumbledore's nose but has possessed one of the teachers. It's going to be a very interesting year."

* * *

Ok kiddies, this concludes the druids apprentice book 1. Book 2, the sorcerers stone won't be started till blind faith book 1 is finished. Hope you enjoyed it.


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